City, Sos & Me

[Intro] So there's no use in asking Your point of view [x2] [Verse 1: Westside Gunn] Aye yo, the drop pair cherry red Red bottoms, Mack Elev, we will clap your head Medusa head locs, loft kitchen reek of coke Cocaine Carreras, parlayin' me and Sos Bricks for what? Get ten of 'em Get Killa Tone a Bushmaster, he'll flip somethin' Big chains on, I'm lookin' rich Bust the duct tape, it smelled like piss KTZ sweatsuit down to the kicks Stepped on the dope twice All black oyster, P roll with the pink ice Mink white, 50 shots before he can blink twice Got his brains leanin' to the side like some cheap Nikes Easy come, easy go, wack him for his Yeezy 1's Eazy-E Raider snap back that match the joints Lookin' like Schoeder kid, hold up Mix the cryonite with the China white, bet my niggas blow up [Hook] Rolls Royce rolled up That nigga did 20 flat, nigga so what? We them new niggas hangin' out the roof, the truth Mix the Pérignon with the grapefruit [Verse 2: Westside Gunn] Moschino gloves on the hammer Shot his man up at Barney's choppin' grams up World premiere, hang that nigga from the lid Rocks clear, choppers swingin' from the chandelier The flyest nigga on this mic, shit, I swear When I got my first brick I dropped tears 12-12 A resumes with cooked flake I was fucked up, I got a back off of big gate Adolf Versace plates Malcolm X Prada frames analyze the snakes Human made joggers cuz they sweatin' me It's got an apron on flexin' the recipe All this gold on might be the death of me The six kilo Cuban link especially Coke on my sweatshirt like Heavy D Chanel mask on baggin' heavy D [Hook] Rolls Royce rolled up That nigga did 20 flat, nigga so what? We them new niggas hangin' out the roof, the truth Mix the Pérignon with the grapefruit [Interlude] So what have you got for me? John Doe. Between 25-30 years of age. Cause of death looks like OG Over gold. Any signs of foul play, Ronnie? No, sir. Looks like a case of just too many gold chains