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super bowl - conway the machine & sauce walka lyrics

[intro: juicy j]
play me some pimpin’, mane
put a little love away
everybody needs a penny for a rainy day
put a little love away
what juicy say? he be like “shut the f*ck up”

[chorus: conway the machine]
yeah, big rings, two of those (yeah)
super bowl, super bowl (yeah)
lot of money, lot of hoes (yeah)
lot of money, lot of money, yeah (woo)
big forty, n*gga, play with me (huh?)
feelin’ like i won the afc (‘kay)
lamb’ truck, to get from a to b (‘kay)
still winnin’, what they hate to see (yeah)
[verse 1: conway the machine]
yeah (woo), got the forty on the stage with me (brr)
never lackin’, n*gga, wait and see (brr)
never lackin’, n*gga, play and see (brr)
f*ck her good, shе wanna stay with me (huh?)
but i could never bе faithful to a b*tch, i don’t live my life faithfully (hahaha)
i’m only faithful to the cash, yeah (woah)
straight forward to the bag, uh (woah)
i don’t wait for it, i don’t ask (woah)
i’ma take all of it, i take all it, i’ma take off, i’m finna blast (yeah)
yeah, play my tape for them and they say “nah, the n*gga spazzin” (yeah)
got spade pourin’ in the glass
all my b*tches ratchet, they like drinkin’ out the bottle (ha)
bottle (ha), bottle (woo)
yeah, all my b*tches ratchet, they like drinkin’ out the bottle (woo)
the bottle (woah), yeah
still on go, on missions
still keep the draco’ with beam and extensions
still gon’ air it if it’s tension (brr, brr)
told ’em “i don’t really like that”, they ain’t listen
shoot it quick, i ain’t missin’ (boom, boom)
scope on the top of it hit you from distance (woah)
i just want my division (woah, woah)
championship rings on my fist glisten (brr)

[chorus: conway the machine & sauce walka]
yeah, big rings, two of those (ah)
super bowl, super bowl (yeah)
lot of money, lot of hoes (yeah)
lot of money, lot of money, woah (yeah)
big forty, n*gga, play with me (huh?)
feelin’ like i won the afc (‘kay)
bulletproof truck, to get from a to b (splash)
i’m really what you n*ggas claim to be
[verse 2: sauce walka]
super bowl ring, out the rimstack
went cooper cup, ’bout to cop me a big bag
jugg jaylen ramsey on the corner, on a b*tch back
girl, i’m a p, i don’t move pounds of nick sacks
boy, take a tic tac, talkin’ that sh*t get you sh*tbagged
boy, you a slave with a chain, you got whiplash
sippin’ slow soda, but still drive the whip fast
name is jerome, but i bet he won’t hit back
escalade bulletproof, talkin’ dog in a van, just like scooby doo
she got ass, like a hippo up out the zoo
but she still gotta pay if she comin’ through
yeah, lil’ mama a star and a comet too
she can fall out the sky and land in my coupe
turnin’ models to millions is nothin’ new
baby girl buy me prada, i’m proud of you
congratulations, put her on stage, it’s a graduation
b*tch, i’m the dean of the college, and i’m glad you made it
nowadays, rap is so fabricated
i got all numbers in the books, i’m the yellow papers
showtime the wrist, shouts gervonta
i done got rich out the streets, with the conway
i’m from the home of the queen, that’s beyoncé
but i done seen destiny’s child die from gunplay

[chorus: conway the machine & juicy j]
yeah, big rings, two of those (ah)
super bowl, super bowl (yeah)
lot of money, lot of hoes (yeah)
lot of money, lot of money, woah (conway)
big forty, n*gga, play with me (huh?)
feelin’ like i won the afc (‘kay)
bulletproof truck, to get from a to b (i got you, man)
i’m really what you n*ggas claim to be (let’s go)
[verse 3: juicy j]
juice havin’ motion, don’t get mad
just like grocery, your ho’ get bagged
young wild n*ggas, wanna smoke sh*t bad
any disrespect and the toe get tagged
still ain’t retired, guess i ain’t finished yet
i got more rings than brady, i get a check
bbl’ll deflate, just like belicheck
no back and forth with a ho’, i don’t get in that
still rollin’ loud, way before the concert
trick on a b*tch, i’d rather die first
pockets fat, like chuck, no converse
white ho’, black ho’, gotta keep it diverse (what?)
pimpin’ ain’t dead, gotta try first (what?)
anythin’ ratchet is my verse (what?)
she want me to put my meat on the grill
she gon’ eat the d*ck up, like a bratwurst (ha)
b*tch, you can pull your pants up
who told you we was finna f*ck? i want top first (mmm*hmm)
hollywood address, all type of access
but i had to get it off the block first (block first)
pretty b*tch in my bed, paint the city red
paint the same color on an opp’s shirt (opp’s shirt)
if you ain’t finna gag on the tip
and make your eyes water up, this d*ck will not work

[interlude: juicy j]
it won’t work
you know what i’m sayin’?
shut the f*ck up

[chorus: conway the machine]
yeah, big rings, two of those (ah)
super bowl, super bowl (yeah)
lot of money, lot of hoes (yeah)
lot of money, lot of money, woah (yeah)
big forty, n*gga, play with me (huh?)
feelin’ like i won the afc (‘kay)
bulletproof truck, to get from a to b (‘kay)
i’m really what you n*ggas claim to be (boom, boom)

- conway the machine sauce walka lyrics

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