Babas Conway the Machine & Keisha Plum

[Verse 1: Keisha Plum]
Blood gurglin' at the back of his throat
The smell of gunpowder suffocates his nose
Echoes of screams clingin' to life
But he will never leave, came back like it's prophecy
Roberto Cavalli drenched in Burberry trenches
Immaculate in Prada boots
Tom Ford florals, double breasted suits
Send a message to him, through his beloved auntie
Left blood on her lace doilies
It'll be weeks before they find her body
And I'm lookin' like the goddess of beauty
Gettin' fed white grapes by a shorty named Ruby
I'm fingerin' her pussy as he kisses her on the neck
She is our bird's nest, I ask for her by request
The night gets wet, spontaneous shootouts
Niggas bring out the heat in the chilly Buffalo streets
Line bodies all over the concrete
This is what happens when Keisha Plum meets the Machine
Smokin' weed by the pound, the devil's playground
Burnt mahogany, truffle oils, Persian caviar
The bullets left artwork in his skin, beautiful scars, yeah

[Interlude]
God Don’t Make Mistakes
God Don’t Make Mistakes
God Don’t Make Mistakes
God Don’t Make Mistakes