conway the machine - 3 bodies lyrics
[intro]
yeah, conway, b-tch
machine, b-tch
griselda, b-tch, statik selektah
you know what’s up n-gg-
tec, what up my n-gg-
[verse 1]
look, one call, papi sendin’ off load
trey pound with the long nose, send you n-gg-s to the crossroads
i used to whip the raw upon my aunt stove
remember i don’t know how to whip it, i lost o’s
them bodies in the hood, my n-gg-s caught those
i had to cut my n-gg- off, i heard my dog told, whoa
she seen the rollie and your broad choose
i back this mac out, you n-gg-s all froze (they p-ssy)
i’m just paintin’ pictures, n-gg-s ain’t as vivid
kept it gangsta, now they wanna jump in my lane and switch it
aim the stainless smith and wesson at your cranium and lift it
i’m just tryin’ to explain to you i’m different
uhh, i was raised a little different
catch me on (?) droppin’ franklins on (?) sh-t
i got a box and i’ma off it in a week
lately it’s been kind of hard for me to sleep, ’cause it’s
[chorus]
there’s money on my mind and it’s bodies on my pistol
youngin on parole, he still ridin’ with his blick though
i just get a word, he pull up and let his clip go
griselda in this b-tch, and you know how this sh-t go
youngin got bodies on his gun, n-gg-
and he lookin’ for some more
yeah, 3 bodies on his gun, n-gg-
and he ’bout to make it four, yeah, yeah yeah
[verse 2]
look, you p-ssy n-gg-s keep on playin’
til i pull up with them 50 shots and keep on sprayin’
i’m the illest with the sh-t, that’s what they keep on sayin’
plug keep sendin’ that box, then i’ma keep on weighin’
i’ma keep on cookin’, i’ma keep on whippin’
you n-gg-s still catchin’ cases, n-gg-s keep on snitchin’
d-mn, you n-gg-s got robbed again, you n-gg-s keep on b-tchin’
need another body, my trigger finger keep on itchin’
look, griselda, n-gg-, we more different
machine, b-tch, he more gifted, you can’t f-ck with me or mystic
westside gunn, i green light, they squeeze off blickers
gotta re more like 3 more fishes
i’ve been independent but, homie i’m conductin’ lyor business
listen close, shout out my b-more n-gg-s, n-gg-
(y’all n-gg-s better enjoy this sh-t, n-gg-
more steroids, n-gg-.. haha)
[chorus]
there’s money on my mind and it’s bodies on my pistol
youngin on parole, he still ridin’ with his blick though
i just get a word, he pull up and let his clip go
griselda in this b-tch, and you know how this sh-t go
youngin got bodies on his gun, n-gg-
and he lookin’ for some more
yeah, 3 bodies on his gun, n-gg-
and he ’bout to make it four, yeah, yeah yeah
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