[Verse 1: Conway the Machine]
Whippin' yay at the fiend house (Whip up)
Tuck the yopper in the fiend couch (I got it)
'07, light Dutches, nigga (Huh?)
My gun game, you can't fuck with, nigga ('Kay)
Break both shins, put you on crutches, nigga (Hahahaha!)
Po-po at the door, you better flush it, nigga (Hah!)
He sold nineteen, only a bird left
[Chorus: Conway the Machine]
D's kicked his door and found it, that's his third F (That nigga down nineteen joints, mad joints)
D's kicked his door and found it, that's his third F (That's crazy)
D's kicked his door and found it, hold up
[Verse 2: Conway the Machine]
Look, since 15 been a TEC shooter (Uh-huh)
Did a stretch, came home big as Lex Luger
Grilled lobster with the conch fritters (We eatin')
Griselda, bitch, who can fuck with us? (Hah!)
I'm from the city, niggas get smoked for a half a ki'
Versace specs, silk shirt on, bitch, I'm Master P (Hahahaha!)
Master kush, I done smoked about a half-a-P (I'm smokin'!)
'Bout to lock the game up and bury the master key (Uh-huh)
Had the foreign parked at my crime spot ('Kay)
Stick on the back seat if the drum pop (What's good?)
Forty-dollar ace, lyin' around block
I know I ain't shit, I even sold my mom rocks (Hahahaha!)
Free the gangstas in Clinton Max and Comstock (Free my niggas! hah, hah, hah)
Attica and Wyoming, Albion, the guys know me
Might go see my shooter buy five Rollies
Just to remind myself, it's my time, homie (Talk to 'em, nigga)
Bodies on the blicky, hit his body with this .50
Shot shotty 'til it flip him
Catch a body, then I'm probably in the Masi' doin' sixty
In Atlanta smokin' sour, ain't nobody fuckin' with me
I'm a legend in the flesh (Uh-huh), respect me like your father (Yeah)
Fuck them pussy niggas, I will hit 'em with the carbon (Brrt)
Put you on the front of a T-shirt, we murk whoever, nigga (Who want it, nigga? Hehehehe)
Whippin' yay at the fiend house (Whip up)
Tuck the yopper in the fiend couch (I got it)
'07, light Dutches, nigga (Huh?)
My gun game, you can't fuck with, nigga ('Kay)
Break both shins, put you on crutches, nigga (Hahahaha!)
Po-po at the door, you better flush it, nigga (Hah!)
He sold nineteen, only a bird left
[Chorus: Conway the Machine]
D's kicked his door and found it, that's his third F (That nigga down nineteen joints, mad joints)
D's kicked his door and found it, that's his third F (That's crazy)
D's kicked his door and found it, hold up
[Verse 2: Conway the Machine]
Look, since 15 been a TEC shooter (Uh-huh)
Did a stretch, came home big as Lex Luger
Grilled lobster with the conch fritters (We eatin')
Griselda, bitch, who can fuck with us? (Hah!)
I'm from the city, niggas get smoked for a half a ki'
Versace specs, silk shirt on, bitch, I'm Master P (Hahahaha!)
Master kush, I done smoked about a half-a-P (I'm smokin'!)
'Bout to lock the game up and bury the master key (Uh-huh)
Had the foreign parked at my crime spot ('Kay)
Stick on the back seat if the drum pop (What's good?)
Forty-dollar ace, lyin' around block
I know I ain't shit, I even sold my mom rocks (Hahahaha!)
Free the gangstas in Clinton Max and Comstock (Free my niggas! hah, hah, hah)
Attica and Wyoming, Albion, the guys know me
Might go see my shooter buy five Rollies
Just to remind myself, it's my time, homie (Talk to 'em, nigga)
Bodies on the blicky, hit his body with this .50
Shot shotty 'til it flip him
Catch a body, then I'm probably in the Masi' doin' sixty
In Atlanta smokin' sour, ain't nobody fuckin' with me
I'm a legend in the flesh (Uh-huh), respect me like your father (Yeah)
Fuck them pussy niggas, I will hit 'em with the carbon (Brrt)
Put you on the front of a T-shirt, we murk whoever, nigga (Who want it, nigga? Hehehehe)
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