a song about Westside Gunn rapping about drugs, money, power, and girls.
LYRICS
[Intro | style: dusty coke-rap, cinematic loop | voice: male | cadence/SPM: 85–95, lazy behind-the-beat]
Uh
Ayy-ayy-ayy
Boom-boom-boom-boom
Look
Marble on the table, powder on the scale, huh
Gallery shit
Fly coke sermons, ni**
Ahh
[Verse 1]
Pyrex on the stove, that’s my first exhibit (uh)
Brick residue on the cuff, I still rehearse the ticket (brrt)
Off-white flake on the Off-White hoodie, that’s mixed media
Stash in the Moncler seam, that’s rich trivia (woo)
Brown bag breathin’ heavy on the Amiri denim
Turn a vacant to a private showroom, let the fiends get in it (skrrt)
Hermès buckle on my waist like a chrome piece
Mink draggin’ through the lobby like a cold beef (ahh)
Lamborghini lime green, look like pistachio gelato
Dope in the door panel, driver holy like an apostle (boom)
Rolls Royce stars in the ceilin’, that’s my Sistine
Cuban link swing like a judge gavel when the brick clean (clang)
Marble lobby steps, Balenciaga soles kiss sinners
From them EBT winters to Ruth’s Chris dinners (talk to ‘em)
Saint Laurent trench cut sharp like a mob lawyer
Each stitch pay homage to every block spoiler (facts)
Halo from the diamonds in the rearview glare
Dirty money smell trapped in this Bottega leather air (uh)
Black Ferrari like a hearse for the last opp
Coke notes written in the Margiela tag on the stash spot (skrrt)
[Hook]
Coke money hang off the Raf Simons (uh), that’s God body (God body)
Big chain glow in the dark lobby (ayy)
Rollie flooded like the feds hit the block, ni**, all on me (all on me)
Every brick flip turn a new fit into a art piece, talk softly (shh)
Coke money hang off the Raf Simons (uh), that’s God body (God body)
Big bag look like a auction lot, probably (uh)
Marble floor, red stains, but the drip all frosty
Fly dope dealer, every bar feel costly (boom-boom-boom)
[Verse 2]
Eerie choir in the loop while I bag shit (uh)
Miu Miu shades block demons from my last flip (ayy)
Celine coat hangin’ off a bulletproof frame
Chandelier on my neck, every link scream my name (bling)
Brick flips, big fits, wrist drips, rich scripts
Run the money through the laundromat with Chrome Hearts prints (facts)
Virgil rug in the crib where the safe tuck
Ace of Spades pourin’ on the Patek ’til the face stuck (flood it)
Custom AP, stones dance like a crime scene
Blood red interior in the Wraith, that’s a live meme (skrrt)
My plug treat the backroom like a fitting
Suit tailor bring the swatches while we talkin’ bout the shipment (uh)
Invite-only pop-up, smell like Parian dust
I’m in a Tom Ford double-breast that could bury a judge (ha)
Fendi ski mask, that’s my courtroom aura
Mix Dior Sauvage with the scent of gun powder on ya (boom)
Cash pyramids leanin’ in the Goyard duffel
Feel like ancient ruins funded by a cocaine hustle (talk)
Benz ghost-slide past boarded-up bodegas
Balmain knees hit the prayer pose when I thank the paper (amen)
Saint Michael on my charm, watch the halo spin
Every duffel full of blue faces like I prayed for sin (ahh)
[Hook]
Coke money hang off the Raf Simons (uh), that’s God body (God body)
Big chain glow in the dark lobby (yeah)
Rollie flooded like the feds hit the block, ni**, all on me (all on me)
Every brick flip turn a new fit into a art piece, talk softly (shh)
Coke money hang off the Raf Simons (uh), that’s God body (God body)
Big bag look like a auction lot, probably (uh)
Marble floor, red stains, but the drip all frosty
Fly dope dealer, every bar feel costly (boom-boom-boom)
[Verse 3]
Weighin’ yay on the scale next to Rick Owens boots
That’s contrast: heavy white, light stitch on the swoosh (uh)
Gallery invite in my pocket with the burner
Shooters in Palm Angels, they’ll turn your block to a mural further (brrt)
Maison Margiela mask when I slide through
Prayer hands tat peekin’ out the cuff on the five-tool (facts)
Panerai bezel thick, that’s a mob halo
Ghost gun sittin’ on the teak like a Caravaggio (boom)
We did deals in backrooms behind velvet ropes
Now it’s private showrooms, models sniffin’ off notes (damn)
Tailor take my measurements while I count pros
Measure once, cut twice, that’s how the brick flow (ahh)
Gator skin briefcase stuffed with indictments
Turned that paper to a diamond bracelet, pure enlightenment (yeah)
Chinchilla collar draggin’ like a chalk line
Ferrari Testarossa color blood on your court time (skrrt)
From crack spots with the paint peel to couture auctions
Now the auctioneer wave the paddle when my wrist walk in (bling)
[Hook]
Coke money hang off the Raf Simons (uh), that’s God body (God body)
Big chain glow in the dark lobby (ayy)
Rollie flooded like the feds hit the block, ni**, all on me (all on me)
Every brick flip turn a new fit into a art piece, talk softly (shh)
Coke money hang off the Raf Simons (uh), that’s God body (God body)
Big bag look like a auction lot, probably (uh)
Marble floor, red stains, but the drip all frosty
Fly dope dealer, every bar feel costly (boom-boom-boom)
[Outro]
Quiet now, but the halo still glowin’ off the watch face (uh)
Penthouse dark, only diamonds give the block grace
From them cold Buffalo corners to these chrome gates
Every stitch on my suit is another closed case (ahh)
Coke money turned the pain into couture faith
I don’t talk much, ni**, power move at a slow pace
Mink draggin’ like a ghost through the hallways
Pray for the streets, count the money in the doorway (boom-boom-boom-boom)
DESCRTIPTION
– Performance & delivery:
Use a nasal, slightly high-pitched male voice with that laid-back Buffalo street drawl. Stay mostly in a speaking-tone range, low-to-mid, with occasional higher emphasis and ad-lib shouts on key flex lines (“God body,” “boom-boom-boom,” “ahh”). Cadence should sit around 80–100 SPM, clearly behind the beat, letting every luxury detail land. Enunciate brand names and textures crisply, almost like you’re reading an art catalog, but keep the overall feel gritty and informal. Ad-libs should be frequent but sparse in length: quick “uh,” “ayy,” gunshot sounds, and “boom-boom-boom” punctuating punchlines and transitions.
– Writing guidance:
Rhyme approach should be heavily influenced by modern underground coke-rap: internal rhymes and assonance stacked in the middle of lines (“brick flips, big fits, wrist drips, rich scripts”), with end rhymes tying couplets and quatrains together. Don’t over-structure with perfect AABB schemes; let it feel conversational and painterly, with pockets of dense rhyme. Meter: 8–12 bars per verse section, bar lengths flexible, but always land your strongest imagery near bar endings. Prosody: let syllables ride the swing of the drums; stretch or clip words the way Buffalo street English would naturally do.
Imagery must focus on high-fashion, jewelry, luxury cars, and drugs/money as if they’re gallery pieces. Use lots of tactile detail: fabrics (mink, gator, leather), stitches, seams, weights of watches and chains, specific colorways of cars and interiors. Frame drugs and cash in a cold, minimal, almost “museum placard” style, not as emotional confession. Blend religious and mafia imagery into couture: halos from diamonds, suits as armor, charms as saints, legal/court metaphors (gavel, indictments, judges) tied to chains and cuts. Use “cinematic framing” by describing shots and angles (“rearview glare,” “marble lobby,” “penthouse dark, only diamonds light the room”) so the song feels like a short film. Avoid any sentimental romance or soft emotional vulnerability; girls can be implied in the lifestyle but aren’t central here.
Apply the “words_phrases_to_include” ideas by constantly pairing dirty, street-born elements (powder, bricks, boarded-up bodegas) with pristine fashion elements (Balenciaga, Tom Ford, Raf Simons, AP, Rollie, Lamborghini, Rolls Royce). Treat outfits and jewels like art auction pieces or museum exhibits; reference galleries, auctions, private showrooms, invite-only fittings as mirrors of secret drug deals. Do not mention the rapper’s real name or any label name; keep the narrator as an unnamed fashion-drenched kingpin.
– Production:
Tempo at 82 BPM, 4/4, with a boom-bap swing and slightly behind-the-beat drums. Key centered on A minor, with a simple two- or four-chord minor loop (e.g., Am – F – Dm – E or Am – G) that feels hypnotic and expensive. Use a gritty sampled loop as the backbone: maybe a dusty, chopped baroque string piece or eerie choir sample for that religious, haunted-gallery vibe. Layer deep, warm bass that follows the root notes without getting busy. Drums should be dusty and punchy: loose kick, snappy but slightly filtered snare, soft hats with occasional stutters, and light swing. Add an eerie vocal or string chop that reappears in hooks to create a signature haunting motif.
Instrumentation order: start the intro with just the sample and some vinyl crackle, then bring in bass and light drums right before the first bar. Keep arrangements sparse to leave room for detail-heavy lyrics. Small arrangement changes per section: add a subtle extra percussion or high-passed sample filter in hooks to make them stand out, maybe a low choir pad in the last hook/outro to give it “godlike” calm. Use FX/automation like tape stops, quick filter sweeps, and reverb throws on key ad-libs (“God body,” “boom-boom-boom”) to emphasize cinematic moments without clutter.
– Mix & master targets:
Mix aesthetic should be underground but luxurious: gritty mids and dusty texture, while still keeping jewelry highs (hi-hats, top-end of chains and watch ticks if sampled) clear. Vocals should sit slightly forward but not overly bright, with a bit of analog-style saturation and light slapback or short plate reverb to glue them into the sample. Sidechain or carve space around 2–4 kHz so consonants and brand names cut through. Keep low-end tight; bass and kick should lock without overpowering the sample.
Master at a modern but not crushed loudness, around -9 to -8 LUFS integrated for streaming, preserving transients in the drums and dynamic swings between intro, verses, and hooks. Deliver clean and explicit versions (due to profanity), instrumental, a cappella, and performance/TV mixes. Success criteria: the track feels like a luxury coke-rap short film; every verse has unique, vivid fashion and art-gallery imagery; hooks are mantra-like and instantly quotable; the persona comes off as a calm, dangerous, fashion-obsessed kingpin whose power feels untouchable.