Información de la canción En esta página puedes encontrar la letra de la canción 94 Ghost Shit, artista - Westside Gunn. Fecha de emisión: 28.12.2023
Restricciones de edad: 18+
Idioma de la canción: inglés
94 Ghost Shit |
| Look, look, look |
| I can’t relate to you niggas, your shit is not relatable |
| Grimiest of all time, that shit is not debatable |
| Chopper wave at you |
| Your vest can’t stop, when I’m poppin' the K in you |
| No matter what God you’re prayin' to, I’m not gon' play with you |
| This shit is not for radio, I’m not complainin' though |
| Still headin' to the top, a spot they said was not obtainable |
| Because the way my face look from when them niggas shot my cranial |
| Area, how I’m still livin'? That shit is not explainable |
| Free them niggas locked in cages who was gettin' blocks of yayo through |
| Them the niggas I dropped my pagers to |
| Them young niggas with 30 shot Glocks to flame at you |
| Niggas who got multiple bodies before they was 20, I can name a few |
| Ayo, Machine, them niggas not the same as you |
| Them niggas playin' crazy but them niggas not the same as you |
| Bitch, I got HKs with lasers on the top to aim at you |
| Bitch, I got AKs, I’m sprayin' boy, you not gon' make it through |
| Heard this old washed up rap nigga was talkin' reckless |
| On the internet and shit, that kinda shit I don’t respect it |
| Tell you once, leave my name off of your records |
| Like Nino, I will walk you through 'jects, punch in your chin while you neckin' |
| I’m respected by the OGs, the gangstas, and paroles |
| That smoke the K2, they don’t blow trees |
| But sniff 'til their nose bleed |
| Cut off your fuckin' wrist tryna get your Rollie |
| Them bitch niggas know me, ha |
| Ayo, your bottle green, my shit clear (shit clear) |
| Whip the Tesla X, I don’t even steer (even steer, skrt) |
| Woo on me, kick rocker (kick rocker) |
| Load the MAC up and gift shop it (shop it, grr) |
| I get the shottie from the drawer (talk to 'em) |
| Uh, another body finna fall |
| I move the product to the zombies in the hall |
| Aim good, I could write my name in cursive with the Tommy in the wall |
| I put buck fifties on the side of niggas' jaws |
| They don’t want problems at all, I know a lot of niggas saw, uh |
| I gotta be a boss, rockin' Prada in the mall |
| Knot in my pocket I got from flippin' raw, uh |
| Whip the white 'til the shit fluff, uh |
| Shit on my wrist costs a brick plus |
| Fif' tucked, run up on me get your shit bust |
| Hit six plus times, got you zipped up |
| Black bag that, your body like my last track |
| I turn my hat back, my youngin poppin' at your dad hat |
| That’s facts, I had to bag crack just to have racks |
| Jumped off the porch, I live my life on the fast tracks |
| Had straps hid under the porch and where the trash at |
| Jack boys kick your door down, where the cash at? |
| Woah, I’m the scientist, not the lab rat |
| Machine, bitch, brah, brah, hashtag that |
| Ayo, your bottle green, my shit clear (shit clear) |
| Whip the Tesla X, I don’t even steer (even steer, skrt) |
| Woo on me, kick rocker (kick rocker) |
| Load the MAC up and gift shop it (shop it, grr) |
| When these come out, Ronnie? |
| My PS smellin' like a pissy lobby |
| These niggas on some ho shit |
| Stocking on my face on some '94 Ghost shit |
| Stocking on my face, nigga (face, nigga) |
| On some '94 Ghost shit (Ghost shit) |