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Westside Gunn - One More Hit [Remix] Lyrics



Westside Gunn - One More Hit [Remix] Lyrics
Official




[ Featuring Stove God Cooks ]

(Brrt, f*ck these niggas, Lord) Ayo
(Brrt) Give a f*ck about none of these niggas
(Boom, boom, boom, boom, boom, boom, boom, boom) Ayo
F*ck these niggas (doot, doot)

Ayo, I walked up on him, I didn't think, I just shot (boom, boom, boom, boom, boom, ah)
My whip game brazy, you want it or not? (Want it or not? Ah)
Blocks with no cut, might make your heart stop (might make your heart stop, ah)
Hit my nigga with the kingpin, he never gon' drop (ah)
I'm on my Tebow, we ran the opps' shit with a kilo (with a kilo)
I came home, I copped a mansion and a speedboat (copped a mansion and a speedboat)
I got the AR posing on the Spigol (ah)
In Puerto Rico, got the MAC from Chino Nino (brrt, brrt, brrt, got the MAC from Chino Nino)
My paintbrush, you can't touch, I told the bitch I'm
Richer than half the Lakers, now go to sleep, you wake up
To bubble baths in Vegas, bet a hundred on red (bet a hundred on red)
Conway screw loose, he got shot in the head (he got shot in the head)
We the illest ever, hundred chains on my deathbed (ah)

Ah
Stove Jesus, I was cookin' for three days
And then it rose up out the pot, 'Hov was on the box (woo)
The evils, verse two, shit touched my heart, I had to stop (I had to stop)
Then got right back to whippin', I'm on the pot (woo)
Inshallah, these niggas wake up and know that they ain't me (Inshallah)
Off-White zip tie on the cross when they hang me (when they hang me)
Kneel on the brick, say the Lord's Chant (pray to a real nigga)
Lux-touched marble shine like the floor is damp (woo)
Kilos under the hood with the Porsche stamp (you see 'em?)
Cartier goggles, bitch, I'm Horace Grant (I'm Horace Grant)
Forty below, look like a mountain climber, my nigga said
His first year in the mountains, he felt like he was dyin' (he felt like it was over)
He said he prayed through summer and he read through winter
Then he came home rich, I had the bread delivered
Bitch, I just hit seven figures (woo)
The same night, my young shooter hit eleven niggas (brrt, bah, bah, bah)
Stove
[ Correct these Lyrics ]

[ Correct these Lyrics ]

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(Brrt, f*ck these niggas, Lord) Ayo
(Brrt) Give a f*ck about none of these niggas
(Boom, boom, boom, boom, boom, boom, boom, boom) Ayo
F*ck these niggas (doot, doot)

Ayo, I walked up on him, I didn't think, I just shot (boom, boom, boom, boom, boom, ah)
My whip game brazy, you want it or not? (Want it or not? Ah)
Blocks with no cut, might make your heart stop (might make your heart stop, ah)
Hit my nigga with the kingpin, he never gon' drop (ah)
I'm on my Tebow, we ran the opps' shit with a kilo (with a kilo)
I came home, I copped a mansion and a speedboat (copped a mansion and a speedboat)
I got the AR posing on the Spigol (ah)
In Puerto Rico, got the MAC from Chino Nino (brrt, brrt, brrt, got the MAC from Chino Nino)
My paintbrush, you can't touch, I told the bitch I'm
Richer than half the Lakers, now go to sleep, you wake up
To bubble baths in Vegas, bet a hundred on red (bet a hundred on red)
Conway screw loose, he got shot in the head (he got shot in the head)
We the illest ever, hundred chains on my deathbed (ah)

Ah
Stove Jesus, I was cookin' for three days
And then it rose up out the pot, 'Hov was on the box (woo)
The evils, verse two, shit touched my heart, I had to stop (I had to stop)
Then got right back to whippin', I'm on the pot (woo)
Inshallah, these niggas wake up and know that they ain't me (Inshallah)
Off-White zip tie on the cross when they hang me (when they hang me)
Kneel on the brick, say the Lord's Chant (pray to a real nigga)
Lux-touched marble shine like the floor is damp (woo)
Kilos under the hood with the Porsche stamp (you see 'em?)
Cartier goggles, bitch, I'm Horace Grant (I'm Horace Grant)
Forty below, look like a mountain climber, my nigga said
His first year in the mountains, he felt like he was dyin' (he felt like it was over)
He said he prayed through summer and he read through winter
Then he came home rich, I had the bread delivered
Bitch, I just hit seven figures (woo)
The same night, my young shooter hit eleven niggas (brrt, bah, bah, bah)
Stove
[ Correct these Lyrics ]
Writer: Alvin Lamar Worthy, Stove God Cooks
Copyright: Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group




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