Blam, Blam, Blam Styles P (Ft. Benny the Butcher & Conway the Machine)

[Intro: Conway the Machine]
Yeah
L-O-X
I got 'em
Machine, baby

[Verse 1: Conway the Machine]
Look
Word to the coke that in my shooter nose (Sniff)
Beluga 2.0s in the coupe I drove
On the stoop in the cold movin' stupid O's
Whip the fish before it even dried, deuce was sold
Take a half, produce a whole when I use the stove
Went from trappin' in Pelle jackets to rockin' Gucci clothes
That's why when you see me I'm with a group of hoes
Bad bitches that look like Karrueche, I'm used to those
Bal Harbor shoppin', my pockets do be swole
Cuban's gold
Put my knife in your body, remove your soul
Use your homie shirt to wipe my knife off
His blood splattered on my Kith Moncler, I stabbed him twice more
The fuck I'm takin' your advice for?
When they cut mama lights off, I started sellin' white soft
It's ironic the nigga they tried to write off was takin' the league by storm, I'm kinda like Moss
Wake up in the mornin' to a blunted sour
Then I'm up in lust, I'm makin' money shower
You got money and respect, then you got fuckin' power
I'm rich but I clap a nigga over a hundred dollars