Westside Gunn - Ishkabibble's (ft. Black Thought) (Audio, Lyrics) - Lyrics
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Westside Gunn is here with " Ishkabibble's" featuring Black Thought.
Listen, stream, buy, mp3 download the song produced by Beat Butcha & Daringer.
The Griselda crew is back in full swing after having to delay their month-long run in August.
Westside Gunn just came through with his third solo project of the year, WHO MADE THE SUNSHINE, serving as his official debut on Shady Records.
Hailing budding underground stars and bonafide legends alike, Gunn's latest project boasts several outstanding moments but it's his collaboration with Black Thought that truly stands out.
Beat Butcha and Daringer hold down the production on this one, delivering that signature Griselda sound with crunchy snares and hypnotic loops.
Westside Gunn comes through swinging with his nasal vocals making artful boasts like, "Bodies on the nine/ Murakami with the rhyme/ My shooter rockin' red Muslim garms 'cause he Slime." With no hook to connect them, Black Thought rides the beat flexing his storytelling abilities, recounting the rise of a dope boy in South Philadelphia.
Westside Gunn - Ishkabibble's (ft.
Black Thought) (prod.
Beat Butcha & Daringer) Lyrics.
[Intro: Westside Gunn] Ayo [Verse 1: Westside Gunn] Over pots, it's the overlord sittin' on crates (Ah) Half and half durags, sippin' the quarter water Quarter in my socks, lord, and we rocked We hopped up out the Porsche and torture (Skrrt) Hermès sport rocker, fiends actin' like it's a soap opera "West, I'ma die, I need four dollars", no problem Bring back six, and two more niggas Dior dealers, stashed about half in the floor in it (Ah) Ain't no business like raw business, S6 all tinted Wipe down my guns, make sure it's authentic Aw shit, head spinnin', lead noodles Monogram collar on the red poodle, Feds will do you filthy Have you comin' home seventy, some shit'll ever be (Ah) Bentley on Beverly (Skrrt), Palm Angel MAC that shoot heavenly (Brr, brr, brr) Drop kick the brick and hit the Pedigree (Hit the Pedigree, ah) Ayo, bodies on the nine, Murakami with the rhyme (Boom, boom, boom, boom, boom) My shooter rockin' red Muslim garms 'cause he Slime (Ah) Find another vein, he'll be fine, we divine (Ah) Skeleton wrist, what a time, what a time (Ah) My nigga got caught with dog food, got a dime (Got a dime) Didn't drop a dime on the surf, I'ma shine (I'ma shine) We mobbin' on the yard, one was nine, where was Shine? (Where was Shine?) I'm Sly Green in his prime (Ah) [Verse 2: Black Thought] Ayo, King Musa, key to what, the Mali gold Hire y'all to hold and keep cleaner than the [?] soul Mean and never highly questionable like Bomani Jones The silent plot, the angel investor nobody knows His clothes smellin' like [?] and Somali rose Them fiends histamines keep 'em with a snotty nose (Damn) What a waste like the place where that shotty goes They'll prolly doze in the corner, tell 'em "Adios" Heron could cop a fake rhyme, but he pushin' neon This coke'll knock the face off the Sphinx like 'Leon He just an unassumin' normal human, never beyond What seem to be his means, he ain't tryna do it eon I see him when he park up, he rarely ever talk up The elevator broke, he in a four-story walk up West Indian Archie memory, he ain't even spark up He pull the plug on every enemy that try to mark up The price point, homie on his kingpin for life joint Big Darby, private island, just him and his wife joint Word, he only visit via charter, still beg, borrow, and barter Son, we gotta move smarter like a Carter And stand in purple rain like Prince and Apollonia Playin' like Chillean seabass in Patagonia It's only a few who could see past the average homie Or the reason for the sneezin', be glad we got pneumonia, kid On some cleaner than ammonia shit Beat Butcha