Thousand Shot Mac - Westside Gunn

Yeah, uh-huh

Yo, yeah, uh

Flossin' up at Harry Rosen

I stacked fifty last week, I’m 'bout to spend a portion

Never divorcin' with this life so I’ma die in gold

I abide the code

Meanwhile, your cats divide, fold, told and got paroled

I ain’t callin' you out, just cross the street where you see me

Change the channel 'fore I smack you through the TV

From half a gram to a hand-to-hand for a half a gram

Now it’s trenchcoats imported from Japan and Amsterdam

I have to plan to keep it goin', life is like an escalator

You’re counterfeit and I’m the marker used to test the paper

We both in the buildin', I’m on a higher floor

The bitches that y’all niggas wife I use to test the raw

Analyze my resume before you test the water

Don’t make me have to fly in shooters from across the border

Eatin' celery root and pear bisque with some rare fish

Uh, I no longer have to risk it

Chillin' in the bodega like I’m a mystic

Ayo, you ain’t never met a nigga like me in your life

C-Os popped the lock I’m on the yard with the knife

Money on ya head, what’s the price?

What’s the price?

Cooked the whole brick, kitchen ain’t had no light

We up at one, though, with the pipe on (Pipe on)

Tom Ford Balmain is python (Python)

A Chi-Town shooter, he a Vice Lord

Why God had to make me so nice for?

I’m at the Luxor, the coke on the cut board

Baking soda, what the fuck for?

The rice with the duck sauce

Gunshots’ll drop his lunch off

He ain’t dead yet?

Had to blow his head the fuck off

I’m in the mess hall Thursday eatin' chicken with the drug lords

Wholesale, oh well

I know they fresh off I just seen the boat sail

Buggati coattail

My first gone three weeks with no shells

Been shootin' ever since, you know me well, you know me well

I had a brown-skin girl, same color as my Dutch

She said, «Holie, go drag your nuts»

She queef melodically, in Greek mythology

Nike is the goddess of victory and that lit to me (We lit)

The weed has a litany, the side effects, they get to me

That shit ain’t shit to me

I get higher than a war drone in a war zone

I should win awards, bro, and go on tour, ho

My niggas on the west side got they guns

And Mey came through with a box of ones

That’s a day trip to Vegas, we stay lit, hit wages

The day is outrageous, I’m pullin' twelve gauges

Niggas in yo' bushes, they waitin' to let the K smoke

The shooter had to sniff a fifty just so he could stay woke

You niggas ain’t got no ambition so y’all gon' stay broke

Why you think I’m in this trap kitchen tryna weigh coke?

Shit, it’s either that or I slip the teller a bank note

My dog just came home, he on parole so he can’t smoke

Like Bishop in Juice, three fifty-seven by the ankle

Nigga get outta pocket I’m sendin' God back a angel

I used to get the boy from a Spanish nigga, Pedro

I’m self-made, I ain’t need to sign to a record label

Yeah, out on Rodeo pushin' Scaglietti

Geiger double-O twos, wear your gloves when you baggin' fetti

Who’s the better rapper?

I haven’t met 'em

Have my little savage wet him, I hope your mama got a casket ready