Music Video

Westside Gunn - Claires Back (Audio) ft. Conway The Machine, Benny The Butcher, DJ Clue
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Featured In

Credits

PERFORMING ARTISTS
Westside Gunn
Westside Gunn
Vocals
Benny the Butcher
Benny the Butcher
Vocals
Conway the Machine
Conway the Machine
Vocals
DJ Clue
DJ Clue
Vocals
PRODUCTION & ENGINEERING
Camoflauge Monk
Camoflauge Monk
Producer
Camoflauge Monk
Camoflauge Monk
Producer
FlyGod Jr
FlyGod Jr
Executive Producer

Lyrics

World famous DJ Clue?, Desert Storm
Westside Gunn
Y'all **** frontin', man
Y'all big homies ain't got no paper (Ayo, ayo, ayo)
We still spendin' money from '99
Shout to Griselda (Ayo)
Let's go, Griselda (Ayo, ayo)
How your big homie don't got no money? (Ah)
Travis Scott factors, Armani rugby (Ah)
Rodeo, **** in Ferrari buggies
You ever woke up with a bottom bunkie?
The **** who used to love me don't love me (Uh-uh)
Got so much money, told that bitch, "Don't touch me" (Woo)
Ayo (Ah)
Got so much money, told that bitch, "Don't touch me" (Woo)
Ayo, Amiri high tops with the bones
You ever pull it out, you'd better shoot it till it's all gone
If you make it back, you know it's on (You know it's on)
Name another rapper kickin' chopper on the phone (Brring)
Sellin' brick after brick after brick, I'm in the zone (Ah)
My **** found God, now he in a cell readin' Job
We on the rec yard, me Scoob like Ike and Stones (Ah)
Tell Ye we need to have Sunday Service in this ho
Got the pole on me, make the wrong move, he's on the floor
He took a headshot, now when he talk, he talkin' slow (Ah)
Drove bricks a thousand miles, no bad chromogenics
Four hundred flat, I was gettin' money like that (Ah)
Get you killed for five thousand on a weekday
Left Bennett, had dice games up in Pete Sake's
More vintage, ECW, Sandman off the rope
Ayo, how your big homie don't got no money? (Ah)
Travis Scott factors, Armani rugby (Ah)
Rodeo, **** in Ferrari buggies
You ever woke up with a bottom bunkie?
The **** who used to love don't love me (Uh-uh)
Got so much money, told that bitch, "Don't touch me" (Woo)
Ayo (Ah)
Got so much money, told that bitch, "Don't touch me" (Woo)
Ayo
That's fuckin God, **** (That's fuckin God, ****)
The Richard Mille on my motherfuckin' wrist, that's God, **** (Ah)
The kilo on my other wrist, that's God, **** (Ah)
The three kilos on my neck, that's God, ****
A hundred in each ear, that's God, **** (Woo)
Thirty thousand in my mouth, that's God, ****
And I still got about half a million somewhere else
I don't even fuckin' put on no more, **** (Uh-uh)
That's God, ****
See, I get offended easily (Very fuckin' easily)
Stupid bitch gon' ask me if I was a millionaire
I got that shit in art, bitch (Bitch)
I got three cars that's a million, bitch (Stupid bitch)
I got that in jewels, bitch, I got that in clothes, bitch
You do the fuckin' math (You do the fuckin' math)
Eastside Buffalo **** (Ah)
0-5-5, free my **** Sly (Free Kutter, free Lo')
Free Hot, ah (Free my **** Cease)
You know we still in the streets, **** (Brrt)
Still gettin' money outside, ****, look
The scorpion and the scale, that's why they gotta pay us
Violators still got old blood dried up on the razor (Ah)
Fry the yay up, got every Arm & Hammer box from the bodega
Now, I'm way up and I've run out of favors, hope y'all got y'all weight up
They try to score on us, we chase down, block the layup (Ha)
Yopper sprayer, y'all **** is federal cooperators
Three money counters on the counter count my paper
Hundred thousand dollar wagers when I'm out in Vegas (Talk to 'em)
Bitch hop out of a Bentayga, body like Teyana Taylor
Sellin' dog, you know my product come from outta Venezuela (Woo)
Bricks of fentanyl for forty, I got za in different flavors (Ah)
Catch me rockin' all my jewelry courtside watchin' the Lakers (Machine, bitch)
Bitch, my life's so beautiful
Used to bag five eights, I had white in my cuticles (Uh-huh)
My shooter poppin' thirties, he must like pharmaceuticals
Thirty on him, ain't no tellin' what he might come do to you
Cullinan, you know it's me, you see the white one movin' through (You see me, bitch)
Got a beam on the stick
Griselda, we the true and livin' kings of this shit (Griselda)
Fashion Rebel Purple Brand jeans with the stitch
It's Conway AKA the Machine, bitch (Brrt)
This shit I learned in the trenches just made us felons (For real)
Did a bid and when I wrote to the crib, she saved the letters
When you come up and they don't get to eat with you, that make 'em jealous (Pussy)
You should only be concerned 'bout the paper we made together
Sorry, I'm not sorry, block parties to yacht parties
I'm a trapper, I answer first thing when the pot call me
Speedin', doin' sixty over the limit in drop 'Raris (Skrrt, skrrt)
If I can't make brick money off it, it's not for me
Land in your city private, you know how our boys do (Griselda)
The driver on the tarmac, you know how our boys move (Ah)
In three Suburbans back to back, we bring the convoy through (Bring the convoy through)
I rode in five hundred horses without the cowboy boots, **** (Foreigns, ****)
My rep with the connect, that's what got me the work cheap
I'm independent, still, my numbers be solid the first week
I'm the Butcher, **** load up they Glocks when they heard me (Brrt)
I make December 25th feel like Friday the 13th
When I told Def Jam my number, they said, "No problem" (Okay, okay)
Seven figures just to rap, it feel like I robbed 'em
I'm the truth, but ask these rappers and they gon' say I'm a problem
And I get it 'cause I did it like Guy Fisher in Harlem, **** (Ah)
Griselda
The Butcher comin', ****
Written by: Alvin Worthy, Corey Jaleel Stanfield, Demond Price, Ernesto Shaw, Jeremie Scorpio Pennick
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