[Verse 1: Freeway]
Uh
We from the ghetto, we keep metal, we keep Prada whiffers
You can stuff at least a half a brick inside a woofer
If [?] tote the tool, I might be riding with her
I was charged in middle school, they said the mama's cooking
I was booked, and now my neck look like a hockey rink
My pockets used to leak, and now I got chips like Cliff Huxtable
Made my money from the block, the profit used to stink
Now when I hit up the bank, they serve me drinks, make sure I’m comfortable
First bit of that [?], switched up thе flow this many times
[?] he got a diamond in [?]
First hustler that evеr switched up the [?]
Moved in on the trust, now we live here
Really earned my spot, this ain't no coincidence
Way before the Rock, I was bending in expensive shit
I'll cop out with [?] spit the clip
You ain’t gotta short Mobb Deep to prove you infamous
It's Free and Jake, we need the feeling back, we here to grant your wish
[Verse 2: Conway the Machine]
You know the homies just be waiting to die
That you one of the guys clap, you pull up and throw 5 at you
The bullets big as fuck and D batteries fly at you
[?] that drive passed you
[?] with pineapple
Got Montega all on my hoodie like pineapple
And when they building my statue, from the way I throw lines at you
Highly impactful, like [?]
No marketing plan, market the brand
I step in a design capsule
Mentally my mind, leave scientists mind baffled
Lyrically inclined, I existed through time travel
My physical design, elements that are not natural
Free said "Machine, let's cook", went up, it was my absolute pleasure
You niggas know Con be contacting whenever
Niggas need a drum, niggas know the street I'm from
My heater rung, niggas knowing that I'll clap you wherever
Doc patched you together
I ain't going nowhere, nigga, I'm back forever
Still in the hood, I got my strapped in the leather
For the pressure, know I'm ready for combat whenever
I’m selling my pack, it do not matter the weather
Look, my rhyme book is considered a national treasure
They still try to slight me, do not matter my effort
Just ’cause he your favorite rapper, do not mean that he better
The Machine, bitch
Uh
We from the ghetto, we keep metal, we keep Prada whiffers
You can stuff at least a half a brick inside a woofer
If [?] tote the tool, I might be riding with her
I was charged in middle school, they said the mama's cooking
I was booked, and now my neck look like a hockey rink
My pockets used to leak, and now I got chips like Cliff Huxtable
Made my money from the block, the profit used to stink
Now when I hit up the bank, they serve me drinks, make sure I’m comfortable
First bit of that [?], switched up thе flow this many times
[?] he got a diamond in [?]
First hustler that evеr switched up the [?]
Moved in on the trust, now we live here
Really earned my spot, this ain't no coincidence
Way before the Rock, I was bending in expensive shit
I'll cop out with [?] spit the clip
You ain’t gotta short Mobb Deep to prove you infamous
It's Free and Jake, we need the feeling back, we here to grant your wish
[Verse 2: Conway the Machine]
You know the homies just be waiting to die
That you one of the guys clap, you pull up and throw 5 at you
The bullets big as fuck and D batteries fly at you
[?] that drive passed you
[?] with pineapple
Got Montega all on my hoodie like pineapple
And when they building my statue, from the way I throw lines at you
Highly impactful, like [?]
No marketing plan, market the brand
I step in a design capsule
Mentally my mind, leave scientists mind baffled
Lyrically inclined, I existed through time travel
My physical design, elements that are not natural
Free said "Machine, let's cook", went up, it was my absolute pleasure
You niggas know Con be contacting whenever
Niggas need a drum, niggas know the street I'm from
My heater rung, niggas knowing that I'll clap you wherever
Doc patched you together
I ain't going nowhere, nigga, I'm back forever
Still in the hood, I got my strapped in the leather
For the pressure, know I'm ready for combat whenever
I’m selling my pack, it do not matter the weather
Look, my rhyme book is considered a national treasure
They still try to slight me, do not matter my effort
Just ’cause he your favorite rapper, do not mean that he better
The Machine, bitch
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