Conway The Machine - Conway the Machine - Die on Xmas - Tekst piosenki, lyrics - teksciki.pl

Conway the Machine - Die on Xmas

Conway The Machine

G.O.A.T.

21.12.2017

58

Tekst piosenki
[Intro: Benny] You ever hold it while ya man tape it? [Verse 1: Benny] Look, I watched history repeat from past to present When your stomach touchin' your back, call for drastic measures Re-readin' my mail, all I had was letters You know the phones in the jail be havin' bad reception I left school soon as I had math perfected We threw bullets behind blocks like pass protection Where I'm from, mothers in the hood mad protective We was thieves because of things that our dads neglected Niggas said they show love, it never added up to much You ever went broke and start baggin' up the cut? Went to jail for some work I wasn't fast enough to flush Had it out with some snakes over grass I didn't cut Uh, keep ya ears open, mouth closed, you should try that How you gettin' money still wonderin' where I'm at? I was in the trap, who need directions where the spot at You come, don't call, leave the money where the slot at Uh, white bricks, the strap black as coffee And this the same flow that got these rappers salty I'm Hov' minus the plaques, Maybach and Beyoncé Nigga, I'm Shawn Carter sellin' crack in Marcy Probably niggas in my crew who wanna clap and cross me Have a rat and record me, but I act accordingly Know homies who shoot craps, drink 'ngac get saucy Since you fly, we gon' make sure ya casket flossy Every day I take chances that could put me in the prison I'm like Colonel Sanders got the hook up for a chicken Juggin' for a ticket, lookin' for a kitchen Niggas fed me crumbs but could've put me in position But I was still thankful, stayed true to myself Never ask another man what you can do for yourself I know gangsters respect gangsters, chains, Rolex bracelets Keep playin', we turn rappers Cubans to neck braces All my niggas point blank shooters and check chasers Grind until we private investors and jet racin' Serious? Niggas ain't pimpin', y'all rest havens Bag full of chips, felt like I just left Vegas, ahhh [Verse 2: Conway] Uh, look My mind scientific, but I reside in the crime inflicted Environment, where guys are buyin' bricks and drivin' big shit I fire biscuits, turn ya mind to liquid As far as rhymin', this is a giant to a midget, every line exquisite Grimiest of all time to pen this So when you try and mention top five guys that did it, why ain't I enlisted? That I find ridiculous Considerin' we ain't seen nobody this consistent since like '95, '96-ish (hahahaha) It's real in my city, think I'm lyin', visit Niggas die on Christmas, niggas sit nine inside your fitted You said that you supply it So my youngins come and kick down your door where you reside so they can try and get it Lil' homie can't wait to hit you That money ain't worth it, you die, you can't take it with you I give that head nod, that boy he gon' quake his pistol You believe in God, then you better pray he with you Look at the last two years, everything I dropped was way official Daringer beats had me writin' 'til I break the pencil, whoa (facts!) I came a long way from weighin' crystal Blazin' nickle plated pistols through your facial tissue Lurkin' in that van, boy, I'm on my way to get you Clip full of AK missiles, bitch, I ain't playin' with you Hit the lights, pull up slow, let the drum go Pop out, he hit 5 times, I gave him one mo' Oh, my bitch got the Mutombo, Chanel bag 55 hund' though, can't be fuckin' a bum hoe (hahaha) They hate, but they ain't make a crumb though They just mad that this East Side Buffalo nigga got a dumb flow Aim the pump low, gut shot where your lunch go Hole so big, see through the back through your front though Whoa, his eyes open, but he slump though Last thing he seen was my gun blow, Conway, bitch You know what the fuck is, nigga, haha [Outro: Sample] So what do you want from me? It's everyting Everyting? Every bloodclot ting I mean, see to sell a bloodclot key of coke, half are mine I sell a bloodclot nickel bag of weed, pussyhole, same ting
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