red pesto - meyhem lauren, daringer & conway the machine lyrics
[intro: meyhem lauren]
it’s that “chew, you fly” sh*t
queens to buffalo and back
[chorus: meyhem lauren]
stick to myself because i trust me
pick a side, you a hustler or a custy?
i’m gettin’ money when i’m sleepin’
no days off from gettin’ money on the weekend (on the weekend)
[verse 1: meyhem lauren]
y’all always broke, like the colosseum escalator
we’ve been official, ain’t no issue, just refresh the data
ask about us, if you doubt us, we the truth
never remix work and speak officially in the booth (in the booth)
precise projection, pistol pointed at your tooth
shoot the cameras first, then take that sh*t to trial, we gettin’ loot
i go to war, five deep, they k!ll ninety
now you can’t find me, queens, we still grimy
i wrote this with forty on my wrist and a .40 on my hip
i ain’t never put a .40 to my lips (.40 to my lips)
anker medallion, droppin’ kilos on our necks
far from basic when we flex, rest in peace my n*ggas’ ex
we play dice games for gold lapel leaves
watchin’ strippers scr*pe the floor, like they rakin’ leaves
take a freeze of the bump, tell me i’m the truth
my face is more handsome than it was in my youth
black benji been b*ttoned, be stuntin’ and somethin’ bouncin’
in the bentley, while doin’ donuts on soft and lauren
aka laurenavichi, uh
[chorus: meyhem lauren & conway the machine]
stick to myself because i trust me
pick a side, you a hustler or a custy?
i’m gettin’ money when i’m sleepin’
no days off from gettin’ money on the weekend
stick to myself because i trust me (yeah)
pick a side, you a hustler or a custy? (yeah)
i’m gettin’ money when i’m sleepin’ (uh)
no days off from gettin’ money on the weekend (uh, look)
[verse 2: conway the machine]
went from movin’ pounds of og to havin’ yayo bricks
connect hit my jack and say, “the package on the way and shipped”
make a b*tch bag your box of razors and a plate of fish
i’m standin’ at the stove, woah, texas torando wrist (guess what?)
n*ggas prayin’, i stay broke, well, look, they can quit (haha)
the way i been gettin’ bags lately, ain’t makin’ sense (i’m eatin’, n*gga)
when they see my next move, that’s just gon’ make ’em sick (‘kay)
all in their facials, my draco’ hit (boom, boom, boom, boom, boom, boom, boom)
they hate when i’m gettin’ fly so i’ma drip harder (ha)
these is vs’s, so my pieces hit harder (bling)
this street sh*t, i’m still a big part of
i know my n*gga in his forties, still shootin’ like he vince carter (hahaha)
yeah, i used to break keys down (uh*huh)
now i’m gettin’ rap money, bust the ap down
any n*gga that ever violated, can’t be found
the flow like jigga mixed with andré three*thou
it’s may street, baow
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