Party wit Pop Smoke

Ayo, you couldnt keep score, Patek Phillipe wars (Ah)
[Verse 1: Westside Gunn]
My *****s stare at Rugers, Gucci bit off Iceberg shit, I still copped the Mickey
Pissy elevators, hand in hand, I wore Issey, Lord, forgive me
Fashion Week, I gave em headstarts to Mississippi (Brr, brr, brr)
Submachine guns, somebody ****ed him, brains hangin off the frame
Blood on the Salvatore Mundi, we rock ******* (Ah)
Tie-dye Dior floss, stickin *****s up at Christies
Eugene Delacroixs for half price, leather strings and Rickys
Aint no eye for eye, you take an eye, we take your whole head (Boom, boom, boom, boom, boom)
Shoppin sprees at galleries, Lafayette, come here lets hold hands
Baggin at the Mandarin, they cant take the drip, Balenciaga mannequin
Pots dancin with the grams of fish, whip game scandalous (Ah)
[Verse 2: Keisha Plum]
My heart got a thousand shadows on it
His brain had a lead hollow in it
Bloodbaths under the moonlight
Spill his guts when the time is right
Valentino for his favorite whore, homicidal couture
Vintage Mizrahi in the streets of Paris
Violence lingers inside me
Extortion fills my bon appetit
Hogtie him, make him watch a ***** nut in his wife
He started to cry
I kissed his cheek, then drove the icepick in his eye
And one call will have a girl scout on your granddaddys porch
Cause of death is heart attack on the coroners report
If he got a felony, its guaranteed to excite me
Gun and drug charges give me butterflies
Evil as Satan, but I see God all in his eyes
[Outro: Westside Pootie]
Ayo, its Westside Pootie
And my Lamborghini got a backseat, and yall drive rentals
In other words, get your weight up
Yall still broke
Oh yeah, and stop copyin off my daddy, too
Its Griselda
Griselda