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House of GLORY (feat. Stove God Cooks)

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Letra
Why you mad?

Broke nigga, why you mad?

Shop out the window

Chop out the window You don't know my expenses, I gotta buy bigger plates

And bigger scales and more bags, what you mad for?

We put them digi numbers on the dashboard Took it to the top from the trap floor, I'm that raw

Had the feds at the front and the back door Broke nigga, why you mad?

Why you mad?

Why you mad?

Chop out the window.

Shop out the window.

Foggy glass pots and tech beams I'm Jesus with the recipe I'm everything they dying to be Half a million cash is ecstasy

Bullet holes in the Lexus seat He had some tricks up his Ava Rex sleeve This shit is wrecked for me

Reach for my necklace and see.

One burn, it don't work good, but we still cooking.

One bad brick don't stop, no show, we still cookin' My granddaddy told me, you get back what you puttin' My wrists say I get back way more And I got twenty of them comin' and they paid for

Fuckers we playin' for, you know what you payin' for Fuckers we waitin' for, what would I waitin' for?

It's all good, and if it ain't all good, nigga, I'm all good

I'll be

Baby, why you leave me?

I only fucked a hundred times

But I love you And yo, it was like I seen the wavy with the AK He said it was the first, it was a payday, told him peace

Seen Emilia walk across the street, he said, peace, love.

He brought to me Prada for a drink, then them tears falling down my face.

Word to Mugga, I cry cause my shit that dope, they can't fuck with us Since Chanel played, she in the county

She put up on tip-tips, shot out with the Audi Another farm made, drew gang new wings Valentino down on my shoestrings Me and Van Wayne, that's my boot thing She used to fuck Van Cleef

Went through, sprayed that nigga shit that's on me Came through, Fendi, Moccasins with the big gap Fucked it one time, put the rain on that bitch neck

Folk men cover, got the Mac when I'm posin' Your third eye closed, stupid nigga, I'm chosen

FB drawn by the sweat, it's the ocean Briefcase gold, y'all snake on my loafers

Nigga, I'm Coacha.

Down in the end school, she class with the polka.

Has to lean house, brunch, sip and mimosas.

Niggas like how this nigga house like the MoMA Long live Virgil, got the chains on a Mona

Long live and share when I come schooled over.

House of GLORY (feat. Stove God Cooks) de Westside Gunn – Letras & Covers