Westside Gunn - RIP Bergdorf Lyrics


Chunky Dunkys order green lobsters
Sometimes a junky don’t fiend proper
Opposition jumpy off a eavesdropping
Weed shoppers looking for smoke
We got cheap ganja, deep diver pushing a bow
She got mean knockned (I fucked that bitch)
I put her in a choke, she shot three rockets
Now my bands cushion li’l soap
It’s not flea market, this [?] by appointment only
Dough leave 30 grand on sweat suits, you don’t know me

[Westside Gunn:]
Ayo, in Times Square, two years, you know it’s Tony
In vein and wire, hundred shots out the stoley
Pardon my slime, he just showed a brick but only 9 was real
What’s your life like, nigga? Mines is real
Central Park in the ’90s, everybody moms on crack playing The Isleys
Take the Cartier buss off, that shit tiny

[Mach-Hommy:]
It’s a black swan event, not a black tie affair
This is fashion rebel drip, no cap, buy a pair
Seam McQueen, split Dior seams
[?] mascara will smear
That kinda shit will have you banned from the Met Gala
Them niggas don’t lamp, they just get silent
Chanel was on xans, I was dressed stylish
[?] was a fan, Lagerfeld doubted
Westwood has the fresh salad
I blew my wide on Vivienne
Chloe was watching outside with the window agape, creaming
She made [?] spray angel on semen

[Westside Gunn:]
Ayo, where you was at when Kenneth Cole shot Gucci up?
Dapper Dan came out, thought he saw Lucifer
Tory Burch started screaming, he seen an all gold Maxima
Next thing you know, Perry Ellis hopped out, black trench coat
Looking like Blackula
Fiends on me, ’cause I cook my work with a spatula
We up in Maxfield with [?] off the massacre
[?] at the God hour
Cleopatra in the Acura, I almost crashed outta nowhere
You seen Bill blast in the Jag every winter
You the best thing I never had


RIP Bergdorf Lyrics
 

 
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