98 sabers – Westside Gunn lyrics

Lyrics 98 sabers – Westside Gunn

98 sabers lyrics
Ayo you lookin’ at my jewels don’t even risk it
(Don’t even risk it ah)
My mechanic be sniffin’ with the wrenches (With the wrenches sniff)
In the mess hall I got to listen (I got to listen)
First day home I got to whippin’ (I got to whippin’ whip)
My country bitch think she from Memphis (She from Memphis)
She could suck dick in the Olympics (In the Olympics ah)
Everyday I wake up I gotta get it (I gotta get it)
My nigga dome shot shit he be wiggin’
(Boom boom boom boom boom boom boom boom he be wiggin’)
How you been FLYGOD? I been livin’ (I been livin’)
Pollo Loco with the chicken (With the chicken)
Even Nino Brown started snitchin’ (Started snitchin’ ah)
Big four pound with the extension
(Boom boom boom boom boom boom boom boom the extension)
Move like Chef Dred in the kitchen (In the kitchen ah)
You’d rather be dead than go against us (Than go against)
My nigga dopeboy he be whoopin’ (He be whoopin’)
My nigga TF he be Crippin’ (Yo Crippin’)

Boss bitch yeah I’m hella bomb (Hella bomb)
Money phone ringin’ like a telethon
I came in the game with my weapons drawn
Necks what I’m steppin’ on (What’s up?) hated but respected on (Come on)
Heavy on the weight (Weight) heavy on the cake
Iced out the same chains that Harriet escaped
Word to all the millions and risks that we takes
The Liberace estates (What else?) Dolce Gabbana drapes what
I’m a beauty but a beast on the track
Don’t confuse this with my booty this the East on my back (What)
You upset yet? Diamond chain on that wet wet
You can slide bitch I jet set I’m gettin’ pampered like the bed wet (Come on)
Niggas hand it to me like the nail tech (Uh huh)
Passin’ bitches like a test but this ain’t no LSAT what
You bitches better be scared if I level up (Level up)
No elevators bitch (Look) step it up

Standin’ on the furniture I told the bottle girl “Bitch pass the Ace”
(Bring me that Ace bitch)
I popped the cork poured the whole bottle for homies passed away
Wrap the Wraith Killa Bee yellow with the matchin’ skates
And still got racks in the safe a half a letter stashed away
Wrapped a half a cake in saran wrap and some maskin’ tape
Rappin’ circles around rappers I probably lapped them eight times
Keep the MAC on waist I don’t waste time
Boy you get the drum work from the Griselda Records basket case
They say they richer than Machine that’s like a slap in face
The problem is I’m gettin’ more money and at a faster pace
Look I ain’t human I’m an alien homie
I just came back from space came to outrap the greats (Talk to ’em)
Trust me I got the bread to get a nigga whacked today
They bring me back your head don’t matter how much cash it take
We used to traffic base now the trap forty racks a day
It’s safe to say we got a boomin’ system I’m Masta Ace
The shooter sixteen throttle in his VLONE hoodie
Nigga look at me wrong then he uppin’ this chrome for me
(Boom boom boom boom boom boom boom boom)
I got rich on my own don’t need a nigga to loan money
Ain’t signin’ no more contracts unless it’s Mahomes money
Machine bitch

RIP to rappers I buried left the trap and then married
I won a ring for every team I was on like Vinatieri
I got the four-door too (Uh huh) so many whips it’s gettin’ scary (Uh huh)
Book a photoshoot y’all ’bout to need pics for obituaries
The GxF Rebels any static nigga we accept
Y’all niggas should be in check or BSF’ll be at necks
When I say the beef lit I don’t mean a tweet or text (I don’t mean that)
Shooters I send three no less and let ’em take the CLS
Beef is I know where your people stay (I know) I don’t need to flex (I don’t)
But when you least expect it I send a cleanup crew to eat your dress
Beef is a forever thing careful when you speakin’ threats
I achieved success and still can’t even rest
Took this street shit corporate a dab of it I just balanced it
Authentic all this G shit I’m talkin’ they never challenge it
Where I’m from we ignorant graduatin’ average
Fuck that if you can flip money then you talented
Man y’all lost I could be payin’ y’all off (Payin’ off)
But I don’t trip ’cause y’all niggas broke and y’all soft
Think I’m playin’ y’all wrong I’m frontin’ when the grams all gone
Put a yellow band on my arm like I’m Lance Armstronggg

98 sabers

98 sabers – Westside Gunn lyrics
Scroll to top