Vivian at the Art Basel (feat. Westside Gunn & Your Old Droog)

Life is hard no doubt So there's a few things I'll make sure I do before I go out Kiss my mom on the cheek Because this one kid didn't get to make it home last week (Rest in peace) Then some girls got trampled Then a cop killed a man just to make an example So before I take a stroll to creep I pray the Lord my soul to keep The wicked Devil's stricken souls A lot of these rappers are disguised ball players and actors, pick and rolls You're going to own a mansion, the rawest crib you've seen Where TV screen come out the ceiling, that's a moving screen Trying not to catch a charge Smokin' in some restaurant garage with my entourage Though the cost of me bein' a star is When I jet, I'ma get a month long marathon montage Squad should call me sarge Bunch of Extra P understudies, they want to be large Want to drive these foreign cars, mean that literally When I say they want to get out of Dodge, listen Dear God, can I get a fresh pair of earpods to bump this one joint by Y.O.D and the Flygod? Throw it on my iPod, with ample gigabytes First time we perform this at a gig they might Lose their minds, start a mosh pit Security will try to squash it Touch a fan's hand, he'll never wash it Only way you'll ever reach and that's boss shit Cantankerous, the Anne Frank of this, live from Auschwitz Memories makin' me nauseous Dun made it out the harshest of hardships Life is hard no doubt So there's a few things I'll make sure I do before I go out Kiss my mom on the cheek Because this one kid didn't get to make it home last week (Rest in peace) Then some girls got trampled Then a cop killed a man just to make an example So before I take a stroll to creep I pray the Lord my soul to keep Aye yo I'm lookin' like Vivian Blake Fiend said he'd take it still wet, give me an eight Don't compare me to no nigga, nigga I'm me Chefs had the apron on bakin' a key I had to be Givenchy tote with the Rottweiler hair FNH57 tucked in the black Red Balenciaga with the black strings Coogi, Tom Ford left Still smell the blood on Giani's doorsteps I hope they fade away, on my third gold bottle to take the pain away Sell coke for a Cavalli coat Residue on the black Pusha T's for steppin' on the dope No Malice said pray for me I got some little niggas that'll come spray him for me Sip on the 'bout to bust out on sunset Bossa nova lunch, gave the brick a Cobra Clutch Get you wacked for a All red Ozweegos, at the art basel, black Desert Eagle Life is hard no doubt So there's a few things I'll make sure I do before I go out Kiss my mom on the cheek Because this one kid didn't get to make it home last week (Rest in peace) Then some girls got trampled Then a cop killed a man just to make an example So before I take a stroll to I pray the Lord my soul to keep