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conway the machine - beloved lyrics

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[these lyrics are intentionally locked and left partial due to a dmca takedown request. please do not edit the lyrics to include the removed sections.]

ya man rude ting dis
griselda boi

[verse 2: conway]
the sh-t i do with the pen dangerous
in-famous every bar is 10 razors
hit faces with the ten gauges
two-eighty-five west in the benz racing
that’s temp-plated
i want the money now b-tch i’m impatient
my lil bro will buss your sh-t open for ten franklins
he been craving for a body mach-10 stainless
you a big baby -ss n-gga glen davis (woo)
raise your gl-sses let’s make a toast
we restored that feeling in the city, we gave ’em hope
i got on n-ggas records and made ’em dope
it’s funny how n-ggas you show the most love to is who hate the most
my dominican b-tch sniff a plate snow
scratch the serial off the bl!ckers
them sh-ts’ untraceable
i keep the rifle with a laser and a scope
they saying me and west the new rae and ghost
well i’m humbled by the gesture
them is big shoes to fill, but i’m not under any pressure
i gave my young’un my gun with the compressor
gave him 50 for your body he woulda done that sh-t for lesser n-gga
and i ain’t even in my prime
shot in the helmet i guess it wasn’t my time
on my brother i’ll k!ll a n-gga for my slime
i’m malcolm holding the yoppa peeking out the blinds

[verse 3: b.e.n.n.y. the butcher]
you know it’s real when you down and you set out your books
held the bible in my hands and i read out the book
before i had an operation i got fed off of jooks
my little brother took the case and i got let off the hook
collect the pot then i set the lot
real street n-gga he met the plug before he met his pops
i swear the size of it left him shocked
i took the ride just to watch mean mob n-ggas connect the dots
i made him mess with pots cheffing rock
d’s at my doot the work be flushed before the second knock
straight to the stage when i left the block
hit the gun section and cop
everything they got left in stock
i check my spot and collect the knot
church with my grandmother drop a band in the collection pot
you know my handle, tony soprano
a gangsta n-gga i’m joe bonanno smoking at the copacabana
i got a half a bricky flown from atlanta
what do you know about hand shots
trying to focus while you loading your hammer
make a wish and i’ll blow out your candles
why you mad sucka come get this -ss whoopin’ you know imma hand ya



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