Slums

[Verse 1: Lil West]
Please don't compare me to none of these rap niggas, they just admire me
Look at my mama, she proud of me, I got this shit from a robbery
I need my money, mucho, nacho, currency and the commodity
I got the brick on the property, I got the antidote baby come follow me
I feel like all of my killers is brothers, so all of my niggas is thuggin'
I got that Martin, that Maison Margiela, my bitches foreign, they skin like Nutella
Bro got a gun with a fucking Beretta, that bitch is long as a fucking propeller
We at Coachella, lookin' like Kanye and Kim and I'm still with a whole bunch of killers that look like Omelly
And still they gon' say I'm a felon 'cause I'm out this bitch like I'm dealin' when I'm really chillin'
Smokin' and sippin', I brought my niggas, I brought the bitches
I'm out there pissed that he flexin' like Jigga, look at your bitch trynna stretch in the picture
She want me kiss her, she must be stupid as fuck trynna get me and put me on Insta, these lil' bitches trippin'

[Bridge: Interviewer & Alfred Hitchcock]
“Mr. Hitchcock, what is your definition of happiness?"

"A clear horizon — nothing to worry about on your plate, only things that are creative and not destructive… I can’t bear quarrelling, I can’t bear feelings between people..."

[Verse 2: Lil West]
Just like my daddy I never change, just like the semi it's never clean
Just like the Benz it'll never sway, and just like my bitch she'll never learn
I'm parled out your crib like I'm livin' there, cookin' this shit with your silverware
Don't act like this shit 'cause your niggas here, you'll still get a clip like a fingernail
She drop the top like convertibles, I got this shit on my lap while she sittin' there
This .22 will get surgical, I'll pop that bitch 'till I mufuckin' burn myself
I'm in the crib with the Urbal, I got this bitch on the top like a ceiling fan
These little bitches is fertile, that's what I nut on them bitches and sit it there
I'm still at the spot with the middle man, why you keep flexin' with you and your nigga bands?
Pull up and shoot at this nigga and then I'ma dipset, I think I'm Killa Cam
You put this shit on your Instagram like you get money, nah I think you stealin' bands
I'm finna' call up my hitta man, I know that he finna' kill a man, yeah

[Outro: Alfred Hitchcock]
"...I think hatred is wasted energy, and it’s all non-productive. I’m very sensitive — a sharp word, said by a person, say, who has a temper, if they’re close to me, hurts me for days. I know we’re only human, we do go in for these various emotions, call them negative emotions, but when all these are removed and you can look forward and the road is clear ahead, and now you’re going to create something — I think that’s as happy as I’ll ever want to be."