Westside Gunn – “Free Kutter” (ft. Jay Electronica) [Audio, Lyrics]

Westside Gunn - Free Kutter (ft. Jay Electronica) (prod. Jay Versace)

is back with a new piece, the “” song with . The new track was produced by .

Westside Gunn Free Kutter
Westside Gunn Free Kutter

Westside Gunn has officially ushered in the end of an era, bringing his expansive Hitler Wears Hermes to an official close with Side B of Hitler Wears Hermes 8. Like its counterpart Side A, this latest project features a stacked roster of guest appearances, a testament to Gunn’s mastery of curation. Though there are plenty of gems throughout, it’s hard not to be excited about a new verse from Jay Electronica, given how rare they are in this day and age.

On “Free Kutter,” the production from Jay Versace is at one low-key and soothingly jazzy. Gunn continues to prove that he’s capable of going toe-to-toe with the elites, his stream-of-consciousness flow always calculated even when seemingly sloppy. There are plenty of vividly rendered violent bars throughout, and the sheer glee he exhibits spitting them makes him an engaging emcee.

Playing his wingman here is Electronica, whose reputation as a top-tier lyricist is well documented. Contrasting nicely with Gunn’s frantic cadence, Jay’s self-assured and laid-back approach allows his blows to land with full impact; he even takes a moment to try out the iconic Griselda ad-libs for himself, making this one feel like a genuine collaboration fueled by mutual respect.

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Westside Gunn – Free Kutter (ft. Jay Electronica) (prod. Jay Versace)


[Intro: Westside Gunn]

[Verse 1: Westside Gunn & Jay Electronica]
Ayo, controller of the exits, the arc keep storming
Got a MAC on both sides, my shot keep pourin’
Hold your head up all time ’cause time keep goin’ (Ah)
The flyest nigga of all time, and y’all know it
If God shine, we all shine, life’s euphoric
Bust a brick, I can bag the raw, I can stove it (Whip)
Saint Joseph with red tops in front of Rose’s
Had a four and the jit, turned the nine and called it culture
Pot pioneers had to suplex the soda (Ah)
They raided the duplex, they missed us by a quota
Let the MAC off out the Trackhawk, doin’ donuts (Brr, brr)
Cold shoulder, let them niggas all know, you better know us, yeah
You better know us, yeah, you better know us
Four pound on your forehead, your mind off your shoulders (Boom boom boom boom boom)
We the greatest, beef like eatin’ greens
Kill ’em on the wake up, they popped the cells, Lord, love your neighbor
Put you out your misery, the only box that I’ma be in is a ’63 (Skrrt)
Been in school too long, I wanna deal a key (I wanna deal a key)
I wanna feed all the fam, I want my mans to eat (I want my mans to eat)
I got some niggas that I miss but we ain’t never speak
My nigga prayin’ for parole (Uh huh), let my nigga free (Uh huh, ah)
Let my nigga free (Ah)

[Verse 2: Jay Electronica & Westside Gunn]
If Allah shine, Kutter gon’ shine, it’s mathematical (Ah)
Peace God, keep your head up on your sabbatical
Jay Elect, Griselda, done finally entered the chat
With that “skrrt, do-do-do-do” all over the tracks (Boom boom boom boom boom boom boom)
Spittin’ actual facts soon as the originator was black
From Buffalo to Tupelo we tryna break from the trap (Ah)
You should read theology of time as your days blow by
It’ll be like Yoda with Luke in the Dagobah
The truth is comin’ like Butcher, nigga, that’s word to Jigga
I pray you skate through your bid like eights, see how I figure?
The flow is icy icy, nary a one as nicey
It’s the goat herder, you writin’ for ghosts? Bitch, I might be (Ah)
It’s just me, the Machine, Westside, Hermes for Hitler (Doot doot doot doot doot doot doot doot doot doot doot doot doot doot doot doot doot doot doot doot)
Jay-dolf Spitler, burnin’ niggas live with the scripture
Like Gang Starr and Freddie Foxxx told you, it’s the militia
I spit it for that Mac, that Calliope and that fisher
You should hang this thousand word verse in your cell like a picture
Remember Kutter, you a god, no demi, no Ashton Kutcher
My god, my god, without Bruce Almighty or Bruce Willis, we die hard
Allah sent you here to be king like FLYGOD (Ah)

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