Paulin Paulin Paulin Lyrics – Westside Gunn

Read the full Paulin Paulin Paulin lyrics by Westside Gunn along with the music video, song credits, release information and other details about the song. If you enjoy Westside Gunn’s music, you can also explore Cain Tejada and OUTLANDER, two other songs by Westside Gunn.

[Intro]
Grr
Ayo

[Verse]
January, February, Fashion Week hopping
Lucky we in Paris, back home, I would’ve shot him (Mm)
Laurent apron, I crossed my fingers, that’ll lock up
How the fu*k I turn one to three? I told ’em “potluck” (Whip)
Forty drop a n!gga, yeah, Rolls gold Cartiers
Seen him with his kids, spared him, caught him next day, aired him (Boom, boom, boom, boom, boom, boom, boom, boom)
Ayo, you ever shop in Louis? In that other, other room

Dope spot looking like the Louvre (Dope spot looking like the Louvre)
Hold on, hold on, hold on, had to drop a tear real quick
Ayo, pretty hoes say I’m gorgeous (Mwah), everything I drive imported
Shooter said he want to snort it (Sniff), cobra roof on the Porsches (Skrrt)
Shot your block up (Doot, doot, doot, doot, doot), now it’s scorching, you know my neck cost a fortune
You know my wrist look enormous (Ah), closet full of never-worn s*it
Woo, Margiela sweaters (Hmm)
Gucci on the trousers, coke by the mountains (Ah)
Papi Steak in the Fontaine, snake skin (??)
Got her walking on marble, fu*king on supporting couches (Woo)
Paulin, Paulin, Paulin
Ayo, black and yellow Gatti, that’s a bumble-bee (That’s a bumble-bee, skrrt)
My fiends said the only thing they love is me (Ah)
Two-hundred round drums, on some double D’s (Double D’s)
And tell your mama you can’t fu*k with me (And tell your mama you can’t fu*k with me)

[Outro]
Fu*k you and that b!tch
Griselda
By Fashion Rebels