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Westside Gunn – The Hurt Business Lyrics

The Hurt Business Lyrics – Westside Gunn

(Grr)
Ayo
(Grr)
Ayo, ayo, ayo, ayo
(Grr)

Ayo, I’m on the Lear talkin’ Flair
His face all bloody, robe hangin’ off, got hit with a chair (Ah)
Wore our best tints to the dance floor, Greg Valentine lower tops
Blow his brains out, right off the handlebars (Boom, boom, boom, boom)
Doggypile the Di Vinci’s, tremendous
Push a three door Benz, they never comin’ out, I had twins (Skrrt)
Walked up on him, pulled my gun out close, take that fuckin’ chain off (Take that fuckin’ shit off)
I need that money and that socks filled with bags of dope (Ah)
Duffle bag rumors when we re’d up
My dread shot five niggas, move to VA and rock the Caesar (Doot, doot, doot, doot, doot, doot, doot, doot, doot, doot, doot, doot)
Peace almighty, grimy (Peace)
Kimbo edition, my alma mater is Federal prison (Ah)
Guess who ran the day room? Don’t touch the wrong TV
I’m watchin’ 106 and Park with my shades on
Niggas gettin’ pleasure when they toe tag your vintage Gaultier (Boom, boom, boom, boom)
I’m talkin’ old fashion, shooter got a coke habit (Boom, boom, boom, boom)

Ayo, the flyest motherfuckers got the game on lock (Got the game on lock, ah)
Keep shootin’ it ’til it ain’t no shots (‘Til it ain’t no shots)
Allah, please forgive all my niggas in the box (All my niggas in the box)
When one come home, then another get knocked (Then another get knocked)
Flyest motherfuckers got the game on lock (Got the game on lock, ah)
Keep shootin’ it ’til it ain’t no shots (Doot, doot, doot, doot, doot, doot, doot, doot, doot, doot, doot, doot, ’til it ain’t no shots)
Allah, please forgive all my niggas in the box (All my niggas in the box, ah, Kushed God, bitch)
When one come home, then another got knocked (Uh, then another get knocked)

It only take a half a second to establish the hit (really)
Send my lil’ homie at you, have him stab through your KITH
Got a kilo on my neck, nigga, average a brick
Your bitch face painted on my pants, ravishing Rick (Uh)
How stylish is this? No hate, no malice is this
Whippin’ heavy, all these carats on wrists
Thousand dollar bottle sprays, my whole palate is rich
Ménage à trois times six, nigga, Paris was lit
I get more twat, more checks than you (I shake the spot)
You a vegan, now you a vegetable (I spin the block)
All guns blazin’, my man got locked
Came home, went back, he said it’s vacation (Uh)
Up top shakin’, just stuffed a Backwood of eighth when
West made the tag from the apron (Really)
Five star suites to bust plays, you do the Days Inn (Uh)
Get to the money, everyday spent

Ayo, the flyest motherfuckers got the game on lock (Got the game on lock, ah)
Keep shootin’ it ’til it ain’t no shots (Brr, brr, ’til it ain’t no shots)
Allah, please forgive all my niggas in the box (All my niggas in the box)
When one come home, then another get knocked (Then another get knocked)
Flyest motherfuckers got the game on lock (Got the game on lock, ah)
Keep shootin’ it ’til it ain’t no shots (Doot, doot, doot, doot, doot, doot, doot, doot, doot, doot, doot, doot, ’til it ain’t no shots)
Allah, please forgive all my niggas in the box (Look, yeah, all my niggas in the box, ah)
When one come home, then another get knocked (Wale, uh, let’s go, then another get knocked)

Alhamdulillah, most valuable like Hassan Assad
Got enhancements on them hammers, they’ll do their job
On my side, Cullinan with the windows down
Play whatever hand I get, but never ever show my card
Lay down, niggas ain’t thug, don’t think we can’t tell
It ring out, coughin’ up blood, look like you’re Gangrel
Folarin poppin’, fiends coppin’, that’s my young one
A lot of shoppers don’t look like Rockers because they Young Bucks
Haha, okay, who doper than them?
I got two pair of Duncan Foams and I ain’t open ’em yet
A nigga been floatin’ on these vocals, I been a GOAT with the pen
And niggas snub me all they want, we keep revolvers for that
Folarin is back, I tried to keep my dawg out the trap
He say he got it with that rock like Kevin Hart and McMahon
It’s hard to be great and honestly way harder when black
And I feel like Jake Roberts, boy, slimin’ is back, for real

Ayo, the flyest motherfuckers got the game on lock (Got the game on lock, ah)
Keep shootin’ it ’til it ain’t no shots (Brr, brr, ’til it ain’t no shots)
Allah, please forgive all my niggas in the box (All my niggas in the box)
When one come home, then another get knocked (Then another get knocked)
Flyest motherfuckers got the game on lock (Got the game on lock, ah)
Keep shootin’ it ’til it ain’t no shots (Doot, doot, doot, doot, doot, doot, doot, doot, doot, doot, doot, doot, ’til it ain’t no shots)
Allah, please forgive all my niggas in the box (Look, yeah, all my niggas in the box, ah)
When one come home, then another got knocked (Then another get knocked)