No Problems - Westside Gunn

Yeah, yeah

Stand up, niggas (Stand up niggas)

It is what it is, man

The mayor’s back

Two chain Benny man (What up?)

It’s your boy Superstar Carter (Y'all know who I am)

Homicide Kannon (Yeah)

Westside Gunn

I hear these broke niggas talkin' 'bout how they on the grind

On the block with a bundle of dimes, listen (Haha)

In the trunk, I got a bundle of pies

I’m young and stuntastic like Lovie in his prime (What up?)

Yeah, I’m well respected, but still I lug a nine

They don’t violate often, but a nigga might try

Every now and then, but the nigga gotta die

Have his mom like Jada, runnin' 'round, askin', «Why?»

Her oldest boy ain’t here no more, he wasn’t shit anyway

So it’s only barely pour

But they pop bottles of Remy when they hear this song

It’s fair to say that everybody kinda glad now that the nigga gone

I’m a young cat, but you know I been a boss

So when the war’s on, I ain’t gotta get involved

All I do, give a call to the homies, fill a car

Up with goons, ride out, and go kill his mom

Some of the guns are small but all of the clips is long

You can relate if you on the type of shit I’m on

I’ma be a menace on the streets 'til I’m dead and gone

I kill for nothing, you ain’t even gotta piss me off

Yo, yo

Hoppin' gates with them ski masks on, relax, born marvelous

Fresh, pickin' up bricks for Escobar

And yo, it’s Westside (Westside), Fendi frames in the nighttime

Franck Muller, swear to God that we’re holding black nines

Smoke’s famous in the crack spot, standin' over some glass pots

Blew his brains out with the last shot

New Maserati cost mad guap

Black Champion hoods, we hood, posted up with the ooh-wops

Yo, I’m never gon' change salam lord, hop in the Range

Bulletproof whips because of the fame (Okay)

Ayo scrams, look at 'em glance up

50 grand, cocaine glance

Coppin' dollars, stashin' dope on the scene

Rock a Ralph Lauren peacoat, six Porsche

Keys on blow, flyest nigga you know (Flyest nigga you know)

Ayo, that 7:45 bangin', slangin'

Cuban stick in the motherfucker, price hangin'

Nice, ain’t it?

Famous, gemstar raisin'

Choppin' the work, for half a mil', bartend the basement

Yo, Supreme, universal,

Grew up to be a drug dealer’s son, shot the Mac off

Brightley with the Bentley wings, real niggas do real things

Hoppin' out of Bimmers, fuckin' with kings (Okay)

Westside Gunn’s story, just star me and the fiends

made half a gram on the

Threw a piece to the lookout, I’m leavin' the block a G in the pot

Seizing keys from your spot squeezin' the Glock

Believe it or not, the K will have you bleedin' a lot

That new Rover I’ve been meanin' to cop

Flip words like work on the first search

The ghetto in the Black Phantom, see nice jewels at random, peep

rock you to sleep