Mr. Fuji

[Intro: Westside Gunn]
Ayo, fuck these niggas, yo
Fuck 'em!
Fuckin' voice going out screaming on these niggas
I'm a fuckin' legend
Get the fuck outta here, yo

[Verse 1: Westside Gunn]
Ayo, I heard they pray to FLYGOD, you better be
Hit the brick with the pedigree
Flyer than me, Lord, you can never be
I got some niggas, shoot your kids, then get up for an extra key
No heart niggas
CDG's hearts on the shark head, pick the coffin niggas
I popped up like The Undertaker
Six on the stove another brick watch the crystals when it break up
Money machines running like Team Jamaica
Crept in the cell on the wake-up, left a nigga poked on the bottom bunk bed
Hit another brick with the rock bottom, nigga
Went out for lunch (went out for lunch)
Table-cloth Fendi nigga
I fuck around and hit any nigga
I'm Jig, not Jigga, nigga
That's Conway, I'm more like Biggs, nigga
Listening to Big, nigga
Weighing up some big, nigga
My nigga did 10
He came home looking like Sid Vicious
Thirty-two shots'll flip ya
Flip your baby mama
Flip your grandmama
My nigga did five
Came home looking like Ahmed Johnson
What up, my nigga?

[Verse 2: Conway The Machine]
Uh, Bossanova pies with the extra skirt
Bought some soda for my guy so he can stretch the work
I bet it hurt for niggas to see me bop, Know what they said at first?
Con look at your face, you not marketable, it'll never work
Now T's with my face on it, top-selling shirts
I've got mills in different countries, boy watch how a legend work
Kilo necklace on my shirt, Smith and Wesson work
Youngun' shooting on one leg, he call his weapon Dirk
Shooters lurk for you, black van with the Hecklers in it
Have a nigga wacked before my breakfast finished
That bitch kids at school, we in the kitchen cheffin' in it
Cook smoke, I let him keep the pot with all the extras in it
It's getting spooky for these rappers, right?
Cause they already know that we don't rap alike
They know they ain't half as nice, I ain't even have to write
I feel like Pun, no wonder these niggas living this afterlife
Niagara Cafe, I had the rice with the pollo
Quarter brick of the white go for ocho
Had to throw the ice in the ro ro
Buffalo nigga with a Sean Price mixed with Hov flow

[Verse 3: Smoke DZA]
They throwing salt, Mr. Fuji, huh
They must want a nigga flip it, make a movie, huh
It's pimp or die, you know these hoes out here choosing up
You wanna take pictures with rappers, male groupie, huh
All my niggas hit the streets, fuck going check to check
You got no money in your pockets, yet you fresh to death
Kush God bitch, the best of best
Got the work bustin' through your city like the Lex express
He tryna get a plate on the arm
The moment he started rubbing me wrong
I told him you die in droubt if you wait for the storm
In other words, I payed for his bond, right
No damn favors, these grams like Van Vader
Landscaping the game, you can't save it
Natural heel, but a fan favorite
Here to fuck up the fun, they ain't fucking with son