Westside Gunn – Red Death Lyrics

Westside Gunn – Red Death Lyrics

Red Death Lyrics By Westside Gunn

The track title is most likely a reference to AEW wrestler and Buffalo native “Red Death” Daniel Garcia. Westside Gunn previously performed “Dr Birds” as Garcia’s entrance music during the September 7th edition of AEW Dynamite which took place in Buffalo

[Intro: DJ Drama & Benny the Butcher]
And now we’ve come to that time
Where the legend of Griselda lives forever
The Butcher comin’ nigga
Ayo, y’all niggas should know by now (The Butcher)
Y’all niggas should know by now that Griselda the flag
We the biggest (Biggest)
Yeah

[Verse 1: Benny the Butcher]
I don’t know nobody this hungry, I don’t know nobody this humble
I don’t know nobody this fearless, with Tarzan, I can switch jungles
I don’t know nobody this gangsta, I don’t know nobody this ready
Snatch a chain off a rapper bitch? I don’t know nobody this petty (Nah)
This where I take control of shit
This where I get to rap about sticks and how we wrap bricks with petroleum
Clean strips like custodians (Uh-huh)
My rap sheet got coke on it, my stash house got broken in
West signed me, I was woke again, I’ma tell that story all over again (Yeah)
Get rich first, then get your homies rich, it works
They said I’d never switch it up, but I’m like three flows in on this verse
So what that tell you? That tell me that these niggas do a lot of cheerleadin’ (Lot of cheerleadin’)
And these niggas gon’ run in high when the scan season
And the Butcher comin’, motherfucker
Never seen a pot (Pot), you never seen a blender (A blender)
I got this white bitch with me (This white bitch with me)
But we ain’t meet on Tinder (Uh-uh)
I put my feet on niggas (Uh-huh), when y’all speak to niggas (Those niggas?)
I think of my sons, I need a carseat for niggas (Those niggas?)
I play the game like Larry Bird, you know that street code, nigga
I can shoot for three or I might Victor Oladipo niggas (Ah)
Giants Monday night football, I’m watchin’ from the box (From the box)
Me and OG Juan and Lil Uzi takin’ shots, I’m placin’ bets and takin’ pots (Takin’ pots)
You make a move, I make it hot (Uh-huh)
You makin’ moves, nigga? You take ice cubes, then, man, fuck that
That’s pre-school, you run down on niggas and you make ’em cop (Yeah)
Then make sure you sleep with that machine gun like Megan Fox
It’s the Butcher, nigga

[Interlude: DJ Drama]
When y’all tell the tale
Make sure you tell that nobody did it like Griselda did it
A team that was one of one
That shifted everything
The culture was never the same after they got here

[Verse 2: Westside Gunn]
Stove God, Rome Streetz, my niggas ’bout it, ’bout it
We can break the whole shit down, go ounce for ounces
Ten course, three houses (Skrrt)
One house so fly, you can’t even sit on the couches
Perrier fountains (Ah), I heard the feds watchin’
We had to re-route, took it through the Carolinas
Any doubt and we’ll be here ’til tomorrow, my nigga, you gotta recount it
Ayo, used to get vicious on the TV screen
Weed tems match the tans, the black match the greens
McLaren P1 (Skrrt), with the M16
Oh, I (Oh, I), oh, I (Oh, I, Gangsta Gri-zillz)

[Verse 3: Stove God Cooks]
Uh, G-Wagon mornings and Porsche nights (Stove)
The cars that’ll cost your life (Haha) rain boots Off-White (Hahaha)
It started dissolvin’ in the water, I lost sight (I did)
Needles in the arm for the dog bite (Woo)
Sparkles on a brick, that’s what God like (That’s what God like)
VVS’s dancin’ in the ring like Shawn Michaels, that’s a light show
I’ve seen the Eiffel, I’ve seen a pipe full (Woo)
The trap phone just kept ringin’ like Mike with the Bulls (Woo)
If you could, you would, nigga, but you can’t (You can’t)
Gina Jackson face on a brick stamp
Left the scale wet, the shit still was damp (It was)
I went Dan Marjerle out in Phoenix, had to lay up (Haha)
Get low for nine months, after they sprayed it up (Bah, bah, bah)
They askin’ “Who the best?” I’m like “It may be us” (Brr, bah)
Quarter-million layin’ in the cut, rubber-band it up (Stove)
It ain’t shit to talk about, nigga, the damage is done (Hahaha)
All that Jeff Van Gundy shit, get a gun to your shit
I rock it, stop it, Louis Vuitton moccasins

[Chorus: Robby Takac & Rome Streetz]
Oh, oh, oh, oh
Oh, oh, oh
Oh, oh, oh
Oh, oh, oh (Ayo, check)

[Verse 4: Rome Streetz & Armani Caesar]
Speed in a Benz now, before it was the mega bus with bundles
All the droopy-eyed junkies come through with they money crumpled
Make ’em get it straight, the fiend arm got more tracks than Hitler 8
He tried to find a vein, he tied his bicep with the sneaker lace
They shot him in his foot like Harlem Nights, now he in outer space
Fast forward, now we in Paris, swiggin’ bottles of Ace
You know the case, all the bitches love me like I’m ’98 Ma$e
You dirty square niggas won’t ever be in better shape
We so far ahead of these niggas, it’s no one in the race
Could leave and come back, they’d still be fucked up in the same place
Light you up like Richard Pryor with a pipe full of base
Life dealt them bad cards, he got popped in his poker face
Chop your head, stone cold was how I left a rattlesnake
Then I hit the rock with the razor’s edge on a paper plate
Ghost guns, we keep hearin’ weapons
He tried to run, we blew at the back of his head like a Rams helmet (Boom)
All I needed was a skirt, I told the plug to mail it
On the dark web, I know the method like RZA do
Residue on my digital, you niggas minuscule
(Y’all know who the motherfuck it is)
All of my shit is dope (Yeah) put it on a spoon
Oh, we fuckin’ do it, oh, we fuckin—
Pop tags, get more and more rats, in stores, y’all trash
Piss poor, big bills, tall stacks, y’all cats lil’ boys
[Interlude 2: Armani Caesar]
Y’all wanna come fuck with the queen? (Bitch)

[Verse 5: Armani Caesar]
Nah, I’ll pass, Chris Paul
Y’all know what West and ‘Mani do (Yeah)
He hold the wheel, I’m shootin’ off the room (Grrah)
Throwin’ shots, I hope they ninety proof
‘Cause this shit’ll get real shiesty, pooh (Uh-huh)
Gave bitches room, gave bitches doom
Let me starve, so I made bitches food
Made a lane and I made bitches move
Killed niggas and I spray bitches too (Woo)
Flow hard, ’cause I go hard (Uh)
These hoes ain’t on they job, dope fiend with the J-nod
Like they just came from the graveyard (Ah)
Cop keys of that cake, Ma
Stacks on deck, like it’s cake car (Like it’s cake car)
Big moves when the bricks move
Touch down, hit the jeweler, need a bustdown
Young girl from the Buff’ that did the impossible (Yup)
Everybody from the block was lookin’ to pop it, I was the monster who
Took this shit to the top, boy, like I’m Shane or Sully, the game is funny

[Interlude 3: Jay Worthy]
Woah, what’s happenin’?
Yeah, okay

[Verse 6: Jay Worthy]
I’m hoppin’ out the fifty, it’s an eighty-eight
Gold Ds, red paint, I ain’t got no place
Real Ps, no yees, we don’t know no base
All gas, no brakes, make your bitch cash dates
I’m from Bompton, Balifornia, where us all P shakes
And when the barrels hit the corner then we hop them gates
I bounce, I rock, I roll, I skate
Countin’ hundred-dollar bills, cuttin’ dope on a plate
Just a Westside nigga in Harlem, I tuck my P high
Slidin’ down two-fifth, nigga, I’m to the Eastside
They never heard B-Brazy, slappin’ out of a G-ride
I show you how to do this like the greatest of all time
4 Bent, Rest in Peace, had to do it for 4 Line
2L, Roy ‘Nella nigga, yeah, I’m from both sides
Bangin’ on Wax, we only heard of the B-side
In the bity where it’s brackin’, Blood, I live in a beehive

[Chorus: Robby Takac & Conway the Machine]
Oh, oh, oh, oh
Oh, oh, oh
Oh, oh, oh
Oh, oh, oh (Uh)

[Verse 7: Conway the Machine]
Mop was made in Bangladesh, spray the steps, oops, I made a mess (Brrt)
They upset, they down two, they concerned ’cause they regress
They depressed, they wavin’ white flags, I’m still gon’ wave this TEC (Hahaha)
We take no threats lightly, you likely gettin’ a halo next
We rivals like when the Yankees go play the Mets, go place your bets
I cook a half, my man cooked a half, and J gon’ taste and test
I’m battlin’ my chef to see whose shit better like Rae and Meth (Talk to ’em)
Niggas on that Rayful Ed, SB is Grateful Dead
My bitch is J. Lo bad, I get fellatio, the Grateful Head (Ha)
I don’t beef with rappers, I fill this Wraith up with Draco’ lead (Boom, boom, boom, boom, boom, boom, boom)
Real pressure, think you a real stepper? I break your legs (Haha)
I’m way ahead, did it with no real effort, the way I sped
Past niggas, just ask niggas (Go ask them niggas, man)
Yeah, how you gon’ fix your lips to talk to me crazy
Like I won’t split your shit or put up a dub to get you fixed? (‘Kay)
Bottles meant with sticks and extendo clips (Uh-huh)
All the handhelds like Nintendo Switch (Boom, boom, boom)
I bend your bitch, then tell her “You can go, I’ll send your Lyft” (Goodbye)
Then I sped off so past, I made the Benzo drift (Huh)
Think you puttin’ work in, I’ll come and end your shift (Talk to ’em)
Hiders called me from the Feds and said
“I’m glad you made it, my nigga, this been your gift”

[Chorus: Robby Takac & Conway the Machine]
Oh, oh, oh, oh (Machine, bitch, what’s happenin, bitch?)
Oh, oh, oh (Can’t do shit, get in your bag, nigga, yeah)
Oh, oh, oh
Oh, oh, oh
(Gangsta Gri-zillz)

[Outro: DJ Drama]
When we talk finales, you can compare us to all of ’em
We done lived it all
We the Godfathers, we the Avengers in the Infinity War
We came Back to the Future to be the Terminators of the Matrix
We the Lord of the Rings that hold the Hunger Games
See, no Mission is Impossible when you this Fast and Furious
Niggas Die Hard when we show ’em the Final Destination
It’s been a pleasure
Hitler Wears Hermès 10
DJ Drama
And like that, we gone
B-B-B-B-B-B-B-B-Boom
Gunn, holla at me
Legendary, timeless
Just make sure when the story’s told, it’s told correctly
(Gangsta Gri-zillz)