Album Cover Ray Mysterio (feat. Westside Gunn & Conway)

Ray Mysterio (feat. Westside Gunn & Conway)

The Alchemist

5

Ayy yo (Brrr)

Ayy yo, ayy yo, ayy yo, ayy yo (Ayy yo, ayy yo)

(Brrr)Luxurious fly shit (Brrr)

Ayy yo (Ayy yo)

Turn Judas for them Yeezy Season 3s

The pump′s in the sleeves, don't make a nigga reach

Coke look bleach, pots and forks by the sink

Busted duct tape, that shit stink (Shit stink, nigga)

Same night off for a week

Off-White collab

The MAC hangin′ out the Lambo Jeep (Brrr)

If you slip, I better catch yo' ass

Gave you 32 real fast (Real fast)

My nigga this Hall and Nash

The imperial

Everything we shoot got no serials

This fly shit through your stereos

Coke flip like Ray Mysterio (Now Listen)

You fuck niggas don't hear me though

This that Fashion Avenue flow

Get it like Tuna in Blow, and then we blow

(They can′t do nothin′ but respect us) (Ow! ow! ow!)

(Man listen, we got EmpresSil)

Tie it to the blood clot (Betta watch yo' head)

Look, name a rapper that′s half as ill

That can match the skill that's half as real

Niggas be sayin "Con you have to chill"

′Cause I be spazzin' still

I swear these sucka niggas weird

Rap is good, but I will clap ′em still and fuck up my career

I ain't worried 'bout a jail

Don′t give a fuck about them years

Wilin′ 'til I get the needle or I fuckin′ get the chair

You got a blicky, but you pussy niggas bust it out of fear

My shooter in fatigues

Shotty like he huntin' for a deer, yeah (Boom, boom)

Run down on you and fire twice

The bullet wound lookin′ like a lion bite

Bullets lookin' like a half a stick of dynamite

I was buyin′ guns when you other niggas was buyin' Nikes

Rhymer like Esco when the '90s flow raw as a line of white

I beat your favorite rapper with an iron pipe (Okay)

In the winter, fly to LA, where the climate right

Fuckin′ the kinda hoes you′ll never fuck in your entire life (Hahaha)

Versace belt just to tuck the ratchet (Uh-huh)

You can smell the piss on them bricks before I bust the plastic (Okay)

Shooters lurkin' for you, they in fuckin′ traffic (They lurkin')

They won′t rest until they put you in a fuckin' casket, ugh! (Brrr)

You had to really, really do something to get killed

Let′s take it right on on

You said good for what?

Bottom line (Bottom line)

Word up

It's a whole different world

The fuck is that?

Fuck you talkin' ′bout?

So you won′t be seen on the album

It gon' get loud

Probably ain′t got no record player anyway