Jasmine'S (Feat. Westside Gunn)

Summertime, Butch

Ayo, power trophy up the stove in Garçon
If you need me, I be in my cell on the phone (ring)
George capitals, you see the bones are minerals
Might be the first drug dealer on the Vogue
Mule panicking 'cause she laid out to the Andalé
Maison Margiel's with the scuffs all through Le Marais
My bitch steer wheel on the right, shooter on the left
The first who make 'em over dope dope be the best
Goyard satchels with the Blick, leaving out the Ritz
Champs-élysées on the shopping spree, just me and your bitch
I bought me everything, I ain't buy her shit (uh-uh)
Hermès crocodile sandals stepping on a brick (FlyGod)

36 to 44, shit much more (whip)
My man mom died, he in the cell, when it rains it pours

You must be a very wealthy man
Well, I ain't got no squack, no squack at all
You have any feelings of remorse about being in this business?
No, I have no feelings of conscience
Because to me it's a business
The same as the man with the liquor store
He sells his Whiskey to alcoholics
To him, it's his business
I sell my drugs to drug addicts 'cause it's my business
It's all a profit

Ah, yeah, yeah
Yo, uh

Fuck is the state of rap?
Same shit they been trying to act since Pac died
And Big left, and the game went a little lopside on the pop side
And I cry, it's elementary that you add some entries to your top 5
'Cause evidently I'm in my prime
Doing better than them who done got signed
But it cost me, how else can I put it? They forced me, bullets and coffee
(Good morning, America)
I cheated the game, it felt good as adultery (good as adultery)
Ask the last label, I'm a rap savior
I'm a cash major, I'm a mad strangler
I'm a cash cow and a stack saver
We could chat now, or we could chat later (uh)
I made my wrist lock then made a movie 'bout it
Like the Black Alfred Hitchcock
Interrogation room
I be so quiet in it that you might hear a pin drop
What's the state of rap?
Same shit they been trying to act since Will Smith and Jazzy Jeff (same old shit)
I sold real bricks, I still don't got no real hits
But cocaine still give thrills, white girl, real Kill Bill shit
I get chills when I close deals, made a quarter mill off some chill shit
I get the pill, I'm tryna bang like I'm O'Neal, you just Josh Childress
I show you gents 'round the money, I take you lil' niggas on a field trip
Got a Yacht-Master on a yacht, nigga, we are not rappers
Saw the cops passed 'em and they drop faster than a time traveler
And my watch flashin' like I'm arm wrestlin'
But you like a senior with bad grades
And I'm the dean, I'm thinkin' why cap ya
Couch potato with an iPad and a mic, so now you a podcaster
They hit they ceilings, I'm booked in Paris
Let's get to business (let's get to business)
Two hundred fifty and hundreds
To count it, it take her ten minutes (maybe eighty)
Fuck is the state of rap?
Same shit they been trying to act since Eazy-E
Only street niggas gon' agree with me
I'm just a rich nigga with a GED
Big Butch