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Listen to Bread - EP by The Alchemist
ALBUMBread - EPThe Alchemist

Credits

PERFORMING ARTISTS
Westside Gunn
Westside Gunn
Vocals
Conway the Machine
Conway the Machine
Vocals
COMPOSITION & LYRICS
Alan Maman
Alan Maman
Composer
Alvin Worthy
Alvin Worthy
Lyrics
Demond Price
Demond Price
Lyrics
PRODUCTION & ENGINEERING
The Alchemist
The Alchemist
Producer

Lyrics

Ayy yo (Brrr) Ayy yo, ayy yo, ayy yo, ayy yo (Ayy yo, ayy yo) (Brrr) Luxurious fly shit (Brrr) Ayy yo (Ayy yo) Turn Judas for them Yeezy Season 3s The pump's in the sleeves, don't make a nigga reach Coke look bleach, pots and forks by the sink Busted duct tape, that shit stink (Shit stink, nigga) Same night off for a week Off-White collab The MAC hangin' out the Lambo Jeep (Brrr) If you slip, I better catch yo' ass Gave you 32 real fast (Real fast) My nigga this Hall and Nash The imperial Everything we shoot got no serials This fly shit through your stereos Coke flip like Ray Mysterio (Now Listen) You fuck niggas don't hear me though This that Fashion Avenue flow Get it like Tuna in Blow, and then we blow (They can't do nothin' but respect us) (Ow! ow! ow!) (Man listen, we got EmpresSil) Tie it to the blood clot (Betta watch yo' head) Look, name a rapper that's half as ill That can match the skill that's half as real Niggas be sayin "Con you have to chill" 'Cause I be spazzin' still I swear these sucka niggas weird Rap is good, but I will clap 'em still and fuck up my career I ain't worried 'bout a jail Don't give a fuck about them years Wilin' 'til I get the needle or I fuckin' get the chair You got a blicky, but you pussy niggas bust it out of fear My shooter in fatigues Shotty like he huntin' for a deer, yeah (Boom, boom) Run down on you and fire twice The bullet wound lookin' like a lion bite Bullets lookin' like a half a stick of dynamite I was buyin' guns when you other niggas was buyin' Nikes Rhymer like Esco when the '90s flow raw as a line of white I beat your favorite rapper with an iron pipe (Okay) In the winter, fly to LA, where the climate right Fuckin' the kinda hoes you'll never fuck in your entire life (Hahaha) Versace belt just to tuck the ratchet (Uh-huh) You can smell the piss on them bricks before I bust the plastic (Okay) Shooters lurkin' for you, they in fuckin' traffic (They lurkin') They won't rest until they put you in a fuckin' casket, ugh! (Brrr) You had to really, really do something to get killed Let's take it right on on You said good for what? Bottom line (Bottom line) Word up It's a whole different world The fuck is that? Fuck you talkin' 'bout? So you won't be seen on the album It gon' get loud Probably ain't got no record player anyway
Writer(s): Alan Maman, Desmond Price, Alvin Lamar Worthy Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
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