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conway the machine - blakk tape lyrics

yeah. [yeah]
turn that sh-t up some
nah mean?
i want to feel it in my soul my n-gga
gotta give these n-ggas that gospel ya feel me
machine, b-tch
griselda, n-gga

you know what i hate though?
it’s always one of you bum -ss n-ggas that be talking all wreckless like ya’ll n-ggas really live that life
like ya’ll n-ggas really bout that, n-gga
put one of you n-ggas on a t-shirt n-gga
for real n-gga
i’m from the hood n-gga

[verse 1: conway the machine]
all i see is bodies
everybody that got a body where i’m from
get a strap from somebody, there’s probably a body on the gun
my little shooters will body anybody under the sun
one n-gga mention my name
everybody getting the drum
for fun
look
i don’t let a f-ck n-gga by me
cuz they just wanna be under a king, like kyrie
n-ggas took the love out the game like olynyk
so use your head, n-gga, before you get a hole in it. [for real]
50 shot fold ups, i unload the sh-t
had n-ggas running and ducking and jumping over sh-t
i pull up on you, it’s over with
in one year, i watched my brother take over sh-t
g-star raw, balmain moto sh-t
hibachi filet and shrimp, my kyoto dish
your cuban hollow, your rollie tick
i’m doing drive-bys dolo, i’m a soloist!
even if it’s broad day outside, i’m still letting off the k outside
n-gga i’m shooting like klay outside
cuz everyday a n-gga’s gun spray outside
and i ain’t trying to lay outside
i’m from the hood where the g’s sell yay-outside
it could be 4 in the morning, n-gga they outside
kick his door down, rob the n-gga barefaced
blow his fitted on the back hall staircase
now his baby mama got the scared face
she gonna take me to their safe
you ain’t a fly n-gga, everything you wear fake
rocking fashion rebels letterman, the sleeves are rare snake
my dawg got a rackateer case
taking it to trial, i hope he get a fair shake
and you rap n-ggas disgust me
one of the illest out, you’ve gotta discuss me
good kid, but i let the streets corrupt me
f-ck around, your life gonna come to an end abruptly
i’m that n-gga i must be
f-ck a b-tch once, and now she trying to cuff me
you ain’t a shooter, you’re gun dusty
black tape on the handle, the .38 rusty. [pow pow pow]

f-ck these n-ggas talking about?

ayo daringer man, i got these n-ggas, man
conway the machine, s-e gang n-gga, griselda b-tch
you know how i do, you know how i play, westside what’s popping n-gga
yeah, yeah

- conway the machine lyrics

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