LYRICS GAME

G.U.E

See Guè, see a walking euro

Like a living kilo

A cash machine

And to the sound of hundred bills

I stamp flow on your face like slaps

I cut like Chef Tony

They told me you're scary

Me on the track bro: prince of monsters

Like Carletto

And the more these rappers flop, the more they run their mouths

They've been done since day one and Kitty waves goodbye

The G the U the E

Rap, boss don't get it twisted you're not me

I dribble the world like Wade

I score in the sun and switch it off

Even if I lend you the Rolex you never stay on beat

You talk hip hop but you don't get d*ck bro

Like in a chastity belt

I produce dope like a cocalero

But me coke zero, like the drink

We smoke chemical ganja

From the Duomo to the Trocadéro Bandolero style

My record drops tomorrow dude

Your record drops tomor

The G the U the E

Rap, boss don't get it twisted you're not me

I count doggy styles before falling asleep

Your girl missionary

The mission to commission me

In those moments she told me

'Guè call me wh*re', only God knows how real she was

I talk money and it's not ok 'cause you don't make it

I talk p*ssy and it's not ok 'cause you don't get any

I talk style and it's not ok 'cause you don't have it

I talk real stuff and it's not ok 'cause what do you know?

What the f*ck

The G the U the E

Rap, boss don't get it twisted you're not me

MCs cross themselves when I show up

They marry Jesus 'cause he loves them even if they suck

I'm wired, my style's sick like in Arkham

You clone my rhymes, I clone your card

And if you like hardcore

And you're a knockout like a Concorde

Alright, I'll splash on your Tom Ford

I stay all burned, all Guccied out

I walk in, greet her and bro I've already dipped it in

The G the U the E

Rap, boss don't get it twisted you're not me

Let me light up

Thanks, thanks don't put it out then set yourself on fire

You'd be doing the whole globe a favor, I drop

Raw styles like chirashi

Ivan Bodganov

With the mic in hand

You're too tough writing on the wall

But every wasted word bro earns me a tenner

Sold out in the club

The message's obvious

You jerk me off like a Chinese massage

The G the U the E

Rap, boss don't get it twisted you're not me

I keep it Guercio bro

Z, z, zonta on the track

Gue, gue, G.U.E

M.I. the city, that's how it goes