Griselda
Easter Gunday
[These lyrics are intentionally locked and left partial due to a DMCA takedown request. Please do not edit the lyrics to include the removed sections.]

[Intro: Keisha Plum]
Bow our heads, let us pray
Thou shall not disrespect the FLYGOD
Thou shall not let any foul slick shit come out ya mouthpiece
Or else, crowbar to ya jaw
Knock out ya teeth
Then smile and say "Let's go eat"
Red Snapper oysters and fettuccine
Givenchy snakeskin and florals by Riccardo Tisci
Have you feeling like David in the Lion’s Den
Give you faith of a mustard seed
Mustard colored 'Rari pushing a 100mph on the 33
Cheektowaga PD in my rear-view
If they catch me, I'm resurrecting like the lamb of God
IN PLUM POETRY, I TRUST
Everything else is a fucking fraud

[Hook: Westside Gunn]
My n***as at the Round Table eatin’ good
Ain't no shrimp steaks for you (shrimp steaks for you)
We popping bottles like the '96 Bulls
Ain't no more Ace for you (no more Ace for you)
If them n***as ain't come to the party, well it's fuck 'em n***as, shoot (brrrrr)
Welcome Home Killa Tone, my n***a 40, this shit here for you
[Verse 1: Westside Gunn]
Ayo I'm back so soon
Beef and Broc’ two tones, the Maybach go vroom
I had them fiends on tilt, yo this work can’t lose
He cracked his pipe around 10, he was back by noon
K cutter choppin' ’em, no top Lexus, we hop in it
Fed two Bulados with the socks in 'em
These n***as mad 'cause I'm popular, whip the work--
Wrist like the blades on the helicopter bruh (whip)
The books lied, I’m not merciful
They thought I started with them
Now I'm damn near 'bout to circle them
I'm T-shirting them
I wish I could bring Phife Dawg back and just murder them
(Rest In Peace Phife!)
I'm nasty, come test me
Driving and shooting, n***as swore I was a lefty (doot doot doot doot doot doot)
In the Wraith playing Retchy
Dropped FLYGOD, now the bitches say I'm sexy
Wait, wait, wait
I never hesitate, hold the MAC-11 straight
Thoughts to annihilate, ya last full day was yesterday
RAF off the showroom floor, I never wait
Don't make me turn lyrical
Lupe with the GAT on, don't make me get spiritual
It's God with a mask on, I only wanna meet MF DOOM
This still on cassette
Keep playing, I had some L.I. Bloods on ya neck
Pay some Crips out on Grape, they go to So High
Blow a whole check with Jake
We best that ever do this shit
About to take some acting classes, fucking turn to Ludacris
Hit Dre at Aftermath, make art with Anderson .Paak
The n***a moved so I shot (boom)
Sorry, my wordplay explicit
Radio scared of me, but the hood say I did it
My IG floor seats next to Lillard
I'm thinking Notorious B.I.G., but bigger
Dig up Warhol for the picture
Take a shit, whatever color it is, I paint the Fisker (skrrrr)
[Hook]
My n***as at the Round Table eatin' good
Ain't no shrimp steaks for you
We popping bottles like the '96 Bulls
Ain't no more Ace for you
If them n***as ain't come to the party with his fucking next shoe
Welcome Home Killa Tone, my n***a 40 - this shit here for you

[Interlude: Westside Gunn]
Ayo, it's Easter Gunday
It was such a beautiful day
Took my Grandma out to eat
But, yo, FLYGOD in stores
Make sure you get that
See, Griselda the illest n***as out
I put whatever on it
We don't think like y'all n***as
But I'll get into that later
See, it's not just me
It's not just Conway
But I got another n***a
My n***a MACH
See, his shit drop in the May
But until then, we gon' kill y'all n***as with everything
We just having fucking fun
It's nothing else to do
Ayo MACH
Show these n***as why you the nastiest n***a out this motherfucker
[Verse 2]

[Interlude]

[Verse 3]

[Outro: Westside Gunn]
I told y'all n***as don't tag me with n***as
Y'all thought I was fucking playing, huh?
I told y'all n***as, y'all n***as tag me with them n***as?
I'mma make it bad
So for Bus Kingpin; #TheLosers
I'll smash any one of you motherfuckers—for fun
See, I'm a boss
Don't get this hip-hop shit twisted n***a
Y'all n***as know me
Ayo, Bus
What I'm driving Bus?
You seen the fucking Tesla
You been to my spot n***a
How many floors it got, Bus?
Ayo Mag
You came to my show, right?
Brooklyn Fest
You had on fucking sandals
See, I'm not like y'all n***as
Ayo Smoovth
See, you cool
You hit me in the DM
You know I could screenshot all that
I ain't no "screenshot n***a" though
I speak facts
You don't want no problems, you cool
I don't got no problem with Roze
Your chain on, I had in middle school though, my n***a
It's a little rusty, put some nail polish on that motherfucker
And see, I'm a legend-killer too
Any OG don't like this shit, speak up now
'Cause I'm never gonna speak again about this shit
I tried to be nice
It's Griselda
You understand that?
G-x-F-R (Griselda) Griselda - I ain't with no other n***as
I'm a boss
I don't follow trends n***a, I set them
You understand?
Ask about me behind that wall, n***a
N***as cook my shit
I eat good every day, n***a
You understand me?
I ain't 'bout to threaten n***as and all that, I ain't even 'bout to keep doing all that
I'm just letting y'all n***as know
If it's a motherfucking problem, say something n***a
And I'm not even gon' respond with another song
But when I see y'all n***as - you know what fucking time it is
You know who with me n***a
I don't gotta explain myself
I got money n***a
My shoes on my feet a $1,000 n***a
God is my witness and I'm the fucking FLYGOD
I could talk all fucking day
Y'all gon' listen, right?
You still listening, right?
Don't fucking play with me man
Now n***as want a fucking logo
Now n***as wanna make shirts
Now n***as wanna have wrestling names
Now n***as- what else?
Now they want art as their fucking covers
Come on man...
See, n***as
I'm looking at little shit
"Oh, he gettin' all these big features"
"Oh, this n***a got no drums in his beats"
Listen, my shit is art n***a
My shit is legendary
I'm n***as fathers
Yo it's n***as right now that wanna be me man
I used to wanna be like Nas
I used to wanna be like Ghost
It's n***as that wanna be Westside Gunn right now n***a
I'm that fiend
Y'all n***as is just fucking bums
We ain't the same

[Outro Skit: Paid in Full]
Rico:
No ribs

Mitch:
Come on B

Rico:
No ribs
No rice
No champagne
You don't eat nothing