The Curve

[These lyrics are intentionally locked and left partial due to a DMCA takedown request. Please do not edit the lyrics to include the removed sections.] [Intro] Hopefully, I'm moving on Resigning to chill We've been dealing with some things The reason, the reason goes particular, ideas are so important to me [Verse 1: Westside Gunn & Conway] Yo, clip so long you got a curve Right out my mama back hall they got served Still spitting small heads when we copping 'burbs I got shot, ate the bullets, they was hors d'oeuvres I only want it if it's wrapped up The bullets hit his body like a mac truck The blue money in the safe stacked up Gold cuffs on the Ferragamo belt, mac tucked Ayo, throwing up red sticks, why you niggas starving Billy hatchback, the prince just saw a nigga balling Uh, I throw the yay-o on the scale Rock it and then, get rid of it like McHale The O.G., white as hell, nigga smell! 12 gold slugs mad Chanel (uhu) Shoot outs in broad day, baby 100K shipped from Haiti [Verse 3: Termanology] North Face, fuck a mink Northside, tuck ya link Bitch you better bring me a bottle, cuz motha fuck a drink My scale fiends for that hundred grams Kidnap ya lil queen for that 100 bands Have her doing acrobatics in the trunk Her lil heart beat boxing, every time we hit a bump I'm a savage, I'll shoot the fucking cabbage off of a Trump In a Bill Clinton shirt, rocks crackling in the blunt Too much rust on the hammer gotta wear gloves Shaved knuckles and hands, about to kill the plug Tried to trade in my guns but I was still in love I'm young Vito, runnin' numbers and stealing rugs Half a brick on the table in all dubs My hands all stiff from the razor and all numb My click them boriqua cats that stab thugs My whole team Cypress Hill fans, we blast Muggs