Conway the Machine - Conway, Benny & Westside Gunn Freestyle on Flex | Freestyle #060

[Verse 1: Benny] Got 'em on us in the club, the staff just didn't search us Ratchet chicks in skirts with ratchets in they purses Big shit, I walk up clappin' shit in person Y'all pack them little burners, those accidental murders Grind to get money, that's a nigga's purpose 100 'til they lower my casket in the surface Cross paths with a serpent, I'm blastin' it for certain They only shoot back when they rap they little verses When these rappers meet me, half these niggas nervous Prayin' I don't snap and wrap 'em in a curtain Guilty 'cause they life don't match up with them verses Half them niggas worthless, we actually put the work in Know dope boys who drove E-class with a permit That's brick talk, you need karate classes to interpret it I'm out in L.A. in traffic with the lurkers Smokin' moon rocks in the back of a Suburban Hittin' licks, broad day with the neighbors watchin' Had us lock playin' spades with the table hostage Beefin' with the cable watchers 'Cause Golden State played the Rockets And we gon' risk our date to watch it I'm on seafood.. and plates of pasta I feel like Dr. Dre mixed with Frank Sinatra I'm Mayweather, you McGregor, I'll explain the concept I'ma show niggas brawlin' ain't the same as boxing That's why I mention how good I am at cookin' a brick Went so deep in the game, understood, I couldn't repent Stood on the strip, P-89 full to the tip These bullets are swift, probably gon' lift the hood of ya whip Made nigga, I ain't never been belittle before Y'all shakin' with them niggas in the middle of war You a street nigga, gotta keep a pistol assort Then quicker you lost and learn how to forget what you saw, uhh Talkin' straight hustlin', tryin' to park the Wraith stuntin' Left the game, a lot of niggas ain't get to walk away from it I'm talkin' graves, niggas walkin' off from state numbers He been down since kids, awful when he call to say somethin' What you know about shavin' off a great substance Brick of white girl, I call it Kate Hudson I do this for the kids who starve and ate nothin' And had to rock off brand just 'cause they fathers ain't hustlas This year I'ma make y'all niggas really respect me Told West "I gotta eat, you gotta really connect me!" If I'm wrong, shit, which one y'all gon' really correct me? If Conway catch the body, guess who gettin' accessory I really had work when it dried up in the streets Maybe that's why I rhyme like Nas before Kelis, uhh Shots missed, two bullets lodged up in the seats We smoke backwoods 'til it fog up in the Jeeps Same rappers that you enjoy, I came to destroy Snatch the Louie off the rack soon as I came in the store I'm a shady individual that Shady employ I run through ya whole team like Shady McCoy, ahhh [Verse 2: Conway] Machine, look, look Champion rap, the title was in my hands Take over the game, since my arrival that's been the plan The streets love me, the legends sayin' that I'm the man Know you doin' somethin' right when your idols become ya fans Damn, but this just results of my hunger 9 under the shark head, tell 'em it's my summer Bentley trucks, 5 colors We don't ride hummer 40 on my lap while I ride, go 'head, try and run up, hahaha Look, I used to pump raw shit Streets made my young boy crazy, he done lost it I green light it, he empty his gun cartridge See a rapper's SUV and Young Dolph it Conway, Westside, we young bosses Watch your mouth 'fore your mustache get punched off it, nigga Can't fuck with none of this raw shit Pussy, go find a bridge and jump off it Made it this far 'cause we really do the work See the tiger on the collar of the tail Gucci shirt Trust me, I'm still in the field My field boots in dirt Million dollar deals, so what, I'm still shootin' first No nigga can match the level of skill when I peel through a verse You niggas dressin' like Lil' Uzi Vert, whoa I'm a legend, it's stamped GxFR, you'll never get ahead of the camp Went to the Bay, sent the cookie in the mail with the stamp Now I'm winnin' out in Oakland like Kevin Durant, my nigga Haha, king Louie with the wax under Judge tryin' to give my niggas Max numbers, ouuu Ex-crack pumper, MAC dumper I was just in Cali tryin' to get the low pack numbers Interscope got me signin' contracts with max numbers Might count the money on Instagram like Blac Youngsta You lil' whores My bitch don't Michael Kors, she like Dior Might send her to buy the store I write the raw, offensive lines, I'm Michael Orr Pen glide across these foul lines, I'm Michael Jordan I like to brawl, I slide my big knife across ya windpipe it tore What you fuckin' with a psycho for? Aww, I just wanna provide you With the grimiest music all summer to ride to I don't do the sneak dissin', boy, I'm comin' to find you And emptyin' my gun when it slide through You know it's real when all the real niggas runnin' behind you And all the top record labels wantin' to sign you My uncle said, "Boy, stay humble", I tried to But you know when it's your moment, it's just somethin' inside you I mean, a wig shot in my neck bled I still became the best rapper alive on my death bed Yeah, drinkin' Spade, eatin' Chef Dreads "Bro, kill all of these niggas", that's what West said Thinkin' back, 17, dumpin' TEC lead Only hit one nigga in his left leg Ever since then shootin' like Steph Lead flyin' out the Heckler, a nigga gettin' left dead Lex said, "Your verse on Statik, got niggas mad at you" And now every so and so wanna battle you" That shit is laughable Tell them niggas go to Al's and do an album in a classic day And tell 'em I'll get back to you, Machine nigga