Vera Boys - Westside Gunn, Keisha Plum

The fuck yo?

I don’t even know why, I don’t even know I’m fuckin' this ill my nigga,

I just am

SE Gang

Yo, everyday I pray to J Dilla

It’s a full time job not spray a nigga

All this dope ain’t gon' sell itself

Gut shot made his stomach melt

Pulled off in an Audi wagon

Did a U-ey came back with fully automatics

Mad Max with the black MAC, left his body parts in a trash bag

Up in Visits talkin' past glass

Now it’s buyin' dinners eatin' crab legs

Everything on me vintage, pourin' champagnes over scale

Sly, we did it

Aventadors on tour, so many guns on me you would think it’s war

Not at all, I’m just paranoid

Pair of jumpers, Vera Wang, we them Vera boys

Close my eyes I seen pies, inhaled I smelled crime

Kept my ears open, I was focused

Thirty AK-6 shells will flip your Lotus

These niggas bogus, they like three-quarters soda

Lyrically I’m off the boat with it

Studded Loubout' duffle with stupid coke in it

Assholes with gas stoves, nigga you reap what you sow

Lake, I’m out on Chippawa

I’m the dopest, I don’t give a fuck who you are

I don’t give a fuck who you are

Like Adolf, I got no remorse

Slice your baby moms with a dirty box cutter

The real hood forever

Finesse right and skin tight Moschino and Fendi leathers

Poetic gun flow, I’m Nikki Giovanni with the Hublot

Blood stains on my six inch Stilettos

Steppin' on your throat, worse than Hitler doing lines of coke

Burnin' some purple OG, I’m Illmatic times three

Sick destiny, visualize a hustler’s complexity

Murderous tendencies, Balenciaga bag full of blue face Benji’s

Keisha Plum, Westside Gunn, 716 infamy