Pete Sake Westside Gunn (Ft. Benny the Butcher & Conway the Machine)

[Verse 1: Conway the Machine]
Yeah, nigga my kicks cost your mortgage (Hah)
My bricks and my bitch was imported (Cap)
We zip through in Porsches (Zoom), I used to have zips of the purest
Even had a mean run in DC like Clinton Portis (Talk to 'em)
My mind was distorted from the fish that I snorted
All you bitch niggas can get extorted (You know what’s up, nigga)
I keep a stick when I'm tourin', I don’t Ford Explore it (Nah)
Push the Lamborghini Urus, I can assure I floored it (Cap, hah)
Nigga, your bitch think I'm gorgeous (Hah)
My Tom Fords is tortoise, bet you bitch niggas can't afford it (Ha)
The Louis 13th, I poured it
Got murals of my face out in Europe 'cause I'm the illest to ever record it (Facts)
And just in case you smoke, I brought the forty to sort it
Niggas mad 'cause they forty and dormant (You broke, nigga)
They still in the projects, my condo got a doorman (Uh-huh)
My shooter like Harden 'cause he involved in all the scorin' (Boom, boom, boom)
Yeah, and Flygod is an awesome God
That little nigga hit three niggas, I told him, "Awesome job" (That’s a good job)
Don’t give no fuck about no rappers, they can all get robbed (Hahahaha)
This shit is easy like Culpepper throwin' Moss a lob (Ha)

[Verse 2: Benny the Butcher]
Yeah, look
I doubled down and took every risk, I couldn’t afford losin'
That's how I jumped in a foreign right out a Ford Fusion
Small Ruger, pow, shots run you down like Carl Lewis
Or I can have your broad do it, mix your food with car fluid
Guess who's back with VSs bluer than car coolant
Big straps, I let a clip fly and the war movin’
Been a boss, now I'm a coach, I'm talkin' John Rubin
Don Shula, GxF Taliban, Saddam shooters (Uh)
Soprano Wraiths, the driveway ain't got no V6s (Ain't no V6s)
I'm buyin' ice, when I'm on Spikes, not Lees, Christians (Pussy)
I'm reminiscin' 'bout my life over beats, ventin'
Y'all dick ridin', worship niggas like they bleed different (Nah)
Okay, blood on the apron, you know it's the Butcher (The Butcher comin')
Whip a brick hard and then tip the cooker (Tip the cooker)
Off the rope, Ps flyin' like Jimmy Snuka, ahh