327 Lyrics – Westside Gunn

327 –  Lyrics Westside Gunn 327 is the latest song released by Westside Gunn. 327 is from latest album named Pray for Paris

Songs Credit :

Song – 327

Artist – Westside Gunn

Album – Pray for Paris

327 Lyrics – Westside Gunn

Look, I swear Paris will be prayed for (Prayed for)
Unreleased Off-White to the ankles, ayy (Ankles)
I’m in them places that you can’t go (That you can’t go)
Don C, Nigo in the same row, ayy (The same row)
I swear Paris will be prayed for
I need Casablanca by the caseload (Caseload, brr)
Silks with the oranges and the mangoes (Mangoes)
I’m a model now, baby, got the face for it, ayy (Face for it)

I swear Paris will be prayed for (Ayy, yo)

I’m rockin’ old Nashes, on the runway in my coke fashion
Anybody move, we toe-taggin’ (Boom, boom, boom, boom, boom, boom, boom, boom, boom)
My 327s was blessings, leather Vuitton vests
Keep a loaded firearm in Mercedes armrests, Lord stressin’ (Skrrt)
Twenty-two with grays, twenty-five left in the cage
I told him hold your head, it’s worse in a grave
I threw coke in the pot, watched it bloom residue and consume
He started wavin’, had a lighter and dope spoon

A nigga try to kill you for your recipe

My shooter nasal drip flowin’ heavily, duckin’ my third felony (Ah)
Take your shine, two for five, me and mines
Runnin’ from suit and ties, you say you the flyest, then who am I?
Balenciaga with the heel, lemonade a popular drink still
VLONE jean jacket rockin’, so be real (Ah)
Over pots, I’m too exquisite
On the dancefloor tryna finger fuck on every visit
Some niggas’ll never risk it
Hoppin’ in BMs, I’m proud of my position (Skrrt)
They never had a pot to piss in

Body parts on Cavalli dishes

On Mulholland in the drop Porsche wildin’, my loafers crocodile
Stylin’, I be havin’ greater visions (Ah)
You can tell by the way I whip it
You gettin’ money, then the haters with it
It ain’t dry, I told ’em wait a minute (Ah)

Praise both for the way I did it

I swear Paris will be prayed for (Prayed for)
Unreleased Off-White to the ankles, ayy (Ankles)
I’m in them places that you can’t go (That you can’t go)
Don C, Nigo in the same row, ayy (The same row)
I swear Paris will be prayed for
I need Casablanca by the caseload (Caseload, Badmon)
Silks with the oranges and the mangoes (Mangoes, yeah, yeah, yeah)
I’m a model now, baby, got the face for it, ayy (Face for it, yeah, yeah, yeah)

I swear Paris will be prayed for

I’m from an era of hard knocks and quiet storms (Shh)
Rap songs about crack rocks and firearms (Bah, bah, bah, bah)
In the stash spot on some Money Mitch shit (Woo)
Adjust the AC, conceal the biscuit (Yeah)
It’s your life, you can choose to risk it if you wanna
These niggas don’t want smoke, they want some marijuana

I used to get kicked out of class just for my aroma

I went to school high, forgot to pick up my diploma (I was high)
That’s way back when we used to cypher Arizonas (Uh-huh)
Now I’m in that Maybach, I’m with Puff and Hova (Facts, woo, woo)
We bendin’ corners in the six-deuce
Talk about last night’s ten thousand dollar bottles of Pétrus, sip it like it’s juice, homie
How could I lose?
The shit that these fools’ll do to be in my shoes, I’m done playin’ by rules

Learned from OGs, I’m retirin’ the jewels

Everything is plain jane, different day, the same thing
I mean, it’s usual
Everything that’s new to you be the type of shit I’m used to
I could give a fuck about the hater shit, I’m used to it

If it’s fuck me, then know the feeling is mutual (Bitch)

I swear Paris will be prayed for (Prayed for)
Unreleased Off-White to the ankles, ayy (It’s young Bada$$, ankles)
I’m in them places that you can’t go (Yeah, yeah, yeah, that you can’t go)
Don C, Nigo, in the same row, ayy (The same row)
I swear Paris will be prayed for
I need Casablanca by the caseload (Caseload)
Silks with the oranges and the mangoes (Mangoes)
I’m a model now, baby, got the face for it, ayy (Face for it)

I swear Paris will be prayed for

If you feelin’ good
Then everybody say yeah, yeah (Yeah)
Yeah, yeah (Feelin’ good)

Yeah, yeah (I’m on my Gunn shit)

Bitch, I’m all that, all that, Kenan, Kel (Kel)
When I walk in, niggas ring the, ring the bells (Bells)
Roses at my feet, niggas kneel, bitches yell
Glitter on my neck match the glitter on my fingernails (Ayy, yo)
Niggas always got something to say, well fuck ’em
Same guys was mighty ’til they got to duckin’
We got the pucks and we chuckin’

They playin’ chicken, we cluckin’

I’m Colonel Sanders to you motherfuckers
Niggas trash and we dumpin’ (Uh), I been rappin’ and fuckin’ (Yup)
He 6’5″, I’m a munchkin, and we speed to the disco (Dance)
This car came with a driver, I’m in the back playin’ “Frontin'”
I ain’t cryin’, the wind is flyin’, stop makin’ assumptions
I ain’t lyin’ or nothin’
Yes, I’m is, I’m so happy
I turned nothin’ to somethin’, skin glowin’, my hair nappy
My health good, my mama good, my niggas too

And they only wanna have good times like Josh Safdie

We eat good, long way from Maccas burgers
Long way from that metro bus taxi service
Long way, loco gangs tried to taxidermy (Where you from, nigga?)
We would run until our motherfuckin’ backs was burnin’, uh
But anyway, the shorts short and the socks high
And the emeralds shinin’, them GQs and them pot pies (Bling)
And I spy with my private eye that you tried
You cannot pull this look off, nigga, you’re not I
I swear Paris will be prayed for (Prayed for)
Unreleased Off-White to the ankles, ayy (Ankles)
I’m in them places that you can’t go (That you can’t go)
Don C, Nigo, in the same row, ayy (The same row)
I swear Paris will be prayed for
I need Casablanca by the caseload (Caseload)
Silks with the oranges and the mangoes (Mangoes)

I’m a model now, baby, got the face for it, ayy (Face for it)

I swear Paris will be prayed for (Prayed for)

327 Lyrics Westside Gunn

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