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lirik lagu spurs 2 – conway the machine

[verse 1: conway]
look, my brother ain’t gotta rap no more, i got it covered
you see we bringin’ these streets back, you gotta love it
n-gg-s clap me, that’s why the ratchet i gotta lugg’ it
told camino bring a lot of dutches while i jot a f-ckin’ cl-ssic
i got me a badder rollie, i got it flooded
b-tches love me like ll when i rock the bucket
don’t think it’s sweet, i’ll have this chopper bustin’ out in public
empty the stick, broad day, n-gg-s said i was buggin’
we got this sh-t poppin’ without a budget
when you speak the best in the game, my name you gotta discuss it
(?) rushin’, you said it’s a problem, let’s get to the bottom of it
then shots erupted, f-ck it
tesla x with the doors lifted
more steroids, that’s more sickness
more her-on and more bricks in
more ak’s with 30 shots or more clips in (talk to ’em)
the lord is my witness
heard the homie was snitchin’, but sh-t that ain’t my man
sometimes you gotta cut off a finger to save your hand
d-mn, hate to see his face or even shake his hand
sometimes i wanna have him clapped, it only take a gram
look, i’ll embarr-ss you on your block
stomp you bl–dy in my baleicaga low tops
i whip a whole block, then momma owe pops
uhh, cocaine resi’ on momma stove top, machine b-tch

[verse 2: benny]
yo, ay look
where i’m from n-body drug free, but the drugs cheap
we sell ‘caine at nfl games, we sit in club seats
the hate strong, but the love weak
that’s why we buy a lot of guns, say f-ck donald trump, but we love meech
n-gg-, i treat the trap like i’m in a office
stack and pray they come ask for h like it’s wheel of fortune
i can’t trust n-gg-s, i’m feelin’ cautious
this life only fit for bosses, i’m pennin’ thoughts while i fill a cartridge
ain’t nothin’ hollywood, i’m still in the trenches
mac extended like the john wall deal with the wizards
i burn you, i’m like the colonel, i got a meal with a biscuit
the raw is clean, i’m paula deen, i got a feel for the kitchen
yeah, i terminate rappers, so i think it’s ironic
i’m with the machine, i’m feelin’ like john connor
out in miami in the high rises, i seen prices sky rocket
numbers goin’ up like hydraulics
we strapped, so we ain’t askin’ if a ratchet round
shooters graduate to k!llers, then they get a cap and gown
when i’m back in town, n-gg-s know the pack in town
if you open, then i toss it, i’m joe flacco now
i was on the upstate bus, feet shackled down
took it like a man when the judge slammed the gavel down
crumpled money from the fiends, we was up late
n-gg-, i really cut a brick out of duct tape
they don’t call me the butcher for nothin’
in my b-tch kitchen, whippin’ tryin’ to cook up a onion
real gang sh-t, everybody with us a hunnid
i’m the dopest, i’m the poet with the look of a hustler, butcher

- conway the machine

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