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tito's back - conway the machine lyrics

[intro: conway the machine]
griselda
yeah, n-gg-
by fashion rebels
we take the blicks when we go to quad, n-gg-
you seen what happened to pac, right?
we ain’t f-ckin’ with these n-gg-s, n-gg-
yeah

[verse: conway the machine & benny the butcher]
two bodies on the broken 40 (uh huh), tuh
your favorite rappers is broke and 40 (ah)
ain’t gotta lift a f-ckin’ finger, tony smokin’ for me (get ’em, tone)
not only got the illest bars, we got the dopest stories (we got the stories, yeah, look)
i went from playin’ with ninas and click-clackin’ them llamas (llamas)
to walkin’ out of neiman’s, mix-matchin’ designer (uh)
i whip crack, i brought a brick back to my mama’s (yeah)
on a crash course, i wore a chin strap in the honda (skrrt)
push your sh-t back, got a big mac, i’ma be honest (brrr)
i go hard in the paint, big facts, i’ma be honest (be honest)
like my chips stacked, gettin’ big racks, i’m seein’ commas
we on islands, i bring a b-tch back, might be rihanna (ah, hahahaha)
i’m really with that, my clique packed full of piranhas (yeah)
my sh-t clap, you’d get flipped back into the august (doot doot doot doot)
left with money and dope like this pack was consignment
i tripled up my flip from pimp-slappin’ the product (look)
used to flush the toilet with water in the bucket
now my neck lookin’ like some frozen water in the bucket (you see me, b-tch)
your b-tch on a plane with a forty-pound order in her luggage
machine, the illest to ever record it, motherf-cker (machine, b-tch)
don’t get extorted, motherf-cker, diamonds flawless, motherf-cker (the butcher comin’)
diamond chains attract b-tches, that’s why i bought this motherf-cker
continental sport, i can barely park the motherf-cker (hahaha)
i got a app on my phone, that’s how i start the motherf-cker (uh)
gun on my hip, got aim like an archer, motherf-cker (brrr)
i be swingin’ through new york like peter parker, motherf-cker (yeah, n-gg-)
a lot of n-gg-s rap, but they don’t come as thorough (uh huh)
we the hardest n-gg-s out and we ain’t from a borough (yo, east side)
i’m from the town where they carry .30s
and marry birdies, and all the young n-gg-s gettin’ buried early
i went to war, held that cannon firmly
i got that tight wrist and a white b-tch you only compare to fergie
she half dominican, her hair was curly (ha)
and she very curvy, my number retired, you can’t wear my jersey (hahahaha)
and that blicky that i carry dirty
free ab, free mula, my philly n-gg-s is very st-rdy (free the akhs)
and the b-tches see me dressin’ flyer
i got a check, so i can get what i desire, i be the pressure applier (ha)
border patrol, checkin’ all the tires
sold bricks and bust your gun (ha), then i was definitely inspired, look

[chorus: benny the butcher]
most of my n-gg-s gettin’ rich (gettin’ rich)
the rest of my n-gg-s, they’ll smoke you (brrr)
my lil’ homie put me on the lick (on the lick)
got a flip phone, then i made dope moves (ha, what you need?)
one time for my n-gg-s totin’ sticks (totin’ sticks, ah)
you won’t know it’s lit ’til we approach you (what’s poppin’, uh?)
circle ’round your block to do a hit (do a hit)
four hammers deep, ridin’ in the old school (let’s go)

[interlude: westside gunn]
brrr
doot doot doot doot doot doot doot doot doot
doot doot doot doot doot doot doot doot doot
doot doot doot doot doot doot doot doot doot
it’s the f-ckin’ king of new york, n-gg-
(f-ckin’ king of new york, n-gg-)
i don’t even gotta rap, ah, f-ck y’all n-gg-s
i’m gettin’ too much money, i’m hollywood now, n-gg-
(give a f-ck about none of y’all n-gg-s)
la la la la la la, flygod, n-gg-
i don’t even know what the f-ck water taste like anymore, it’s all champagne (ah)
shout out to sarah (ah), la, y’all n-gg-s p-ssy
you ever ate ruth’s chris and house in the same day, n-gg-?
la la la la la la
i got the lamborghini two-door and four-door, n-gg- (skrrt)
la, praise both
boom boom boom boom boom boom boom boom boom
i’m tellin’ y’all n-gg-s this for the next two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, n-gg-, thirteen years, n-gg- (ah)
2050, n-gg-, y’all n-gg-s still can’t f-ck with me (can’t f-ck with me, n-gg-)
this sh-t forever, n-gg- (the almighty)
rest in peace machine gun black (se gang)

[chorus: benny the butcher & westside gunn]
ayy, look, most of my n-gg-s gettin’ rich (gettin’ rich)
the rest of my n-gg-s, they’ll smoke you (brrr)
my lil’ homie put me on the lick (on the lick)
got a flip phone, then i made dope moves (ha, what you need?)
one time for my n-gg-s totin’ sticks (totin’ sticks, ah)
you won’t know it’s lit ’til we approach you (what’s poppin’, uh?)
circle ’round your block to do a hit (do a hit)
four hammers deep, ridin’ in the old school (let’s go, la la la la la la, la)

- conway the machine lyrics

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