Top Songs By Conway the Machine
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Credits
PERFORMING ARTISTS
Conway the Machine
Vocals
The Alchemist
Programming
COMPOSITION & LYRICS
Alan Maman
Composer
Demond Price
Lyrics
PRODUCTION & ENGINEERING
The Alchemist
Producer
Lyrics
Lulu, uh
Yeah, nigga, let me get a light, smokin' this mimosa
Why the popo so vexed for?
They raid the wrong house
We had the dope and money next door (Hahahaha)
Uh, the water on my neck pure
And I ain't even get the backend yet from my next tour (Hah)
Huh, that's what they so upset for
They broke, so they gon' stress more
I keep my gun on me, you left yours (They stressin')
My money in line, that's why I'm good with the connect for
Dog food in the trunk like I just left the pet store (Talk to 'em)
Free the brodie, they got my dude up in the mountains (Hah)
When we was 15
We used to shoot up niggas' houses (Doot, doot, doot, doot, doot)
Started with an eight ball and then I moved a couple ounces
I fucked niggas' baby mamas, even seduced a couple spouses (Hah)
I just blew a couple thousand on shoes that ain't even out yet
Pussy good, get a new outfit, Christian Loubs if her mouth wet (Woo)
Uh, niggas ain't richer than me, I doubt that
Set the streets on fire and niggas ain't put me out yet (Brr)
Machine bitch
I told my shooter when you shoot it, you unload
(Doot, doot, doot, doot, doot, doot, doot, doot, doot, boom, boom, boom)
Ain't it funny how we open laundromats to wash
The money from the load? (Laundromat rap, nigga)
My Spanish homie on the west
He think he Tony, when he sniff, he lose control (Perico, ah)
And he don't care who out there when he slide
He gon' pull up and start emptyin' the pole
(Doot, doot, doot, doot, doot, doot, brr)
And everybody goes, nigga
Yeah, I say the word, niggas gon' run down
With F&N drum rounds
You gettin' gunned down (Boom, boom, boom, boom, boom)
Tried to hide my pole in the closet and my son found it
So how to shoot this SK
I gotta teach my son now (Teach him how to do it)
How you gangster? You ain't never do shit (Hah)
You ain't never shoot shit, never been to jail
I could tell you a bitch (I could tell you a bitch, pussy)
We was peddlin' sniff, told my brodie, "Let's fuck with this rap shit"
He said he'd rather sell a few bricks (Cap)
He said, "That's like me tellin' you quit" (Hah)
When you the best at what you do
Ain't nobody on your level who spit (I feel you)
Came from the bottom, from shovelin' shit
Now it's 30 pointers in the bezel
Of my Oyster Perpetual wrist (Talk to 'em)
Huh, your bitch could tell you I'm rich
She came to my telly, the Ritz
And I gave her impeccable dick (Hahahaha)
I keep this MAC-11, I grip (Brr)
I let off a clip when I throw my gun in the air
Word to Fredro and Stick, bitch (Hah)
I told my shooter when you shoot it
You unload (Let that shit go, nigga, let that shit rip)
Ain't it funny how we open laundromats to wash the
Money from the load? (Wash and fold, nigga, hahahaha)
My Spanish homie on the west
He think he Tony, when he sniff, he lose control (Yeah, papi)
And he don't care who out there when he slide
He gon' pull up and start emptyin' the pole (Brr, brr)
And everybody goes nigga
Yeah, nigga, hahaha, everybody goes, nigga
You, and you, and him too, nigga
Haha, yeah
Green light on all you niggas
Niggas know what the fuck is up, nigga
Yeah
Writer(s): Alan Maman, Demond Price
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