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lirik lagu sticks & stones – joyner lucas & conway the machine

[intro: conway the machine]
yeah
uh
talk to these n*ggas king
look

[verse 1: conway the machine]
ayo, it be at least ten n*ggas shot every week (grr)
get out of the streets, this ain’t a game, this sh*t not for the weak, just save your momma the grief (uh*huh)
young n*ggas turn you to a pack, smoke you out of a leaf
fiend shootin’ in her toe knuckle, she noddin’ to sleep (haha)
i accomplished a bunch of sh*t that’s way out of your reach
and i’m still not at my peak, screamin’ on the label, “all of them budgets gotta increase”
my project complete, yeah (this sh*t finished)
look, if it ain’t the spade, this a bottle of clicq’
kalamata olives inside of my greek, you know the motto, make a million dollars, repeat (ooh)
got that down to a t (talk to ’em)
the money machine ring and no wonder machine seen in that cullinan thing greenish (hahaha)
that brother just seems g*nius (yeah)
they talk the most but they haven’t done anything meaningful yet, i’m at your neck
my releases is your financial threat, substantial checks
impact from my next patch is predicted to crash the net (ah)
look, you comin’ for machine? then you better be at your best
boy, you know the rule, you better clap if you flash your sket, facts
you know whenever we did them shows, sk and them n*ggas drove
you know if he pullin’ up then he comin’ with his poles (you know what that mean)
n*gga, play with us, then bro wipin’ a n*gga nose (woo, woo)
his reaction is put you on a shirt (boom*boom*boom*boom), no kenneth cole
[verse 2: joyner lucas]
my n*gga, i’m in the zone
reflectin’ on my life and where i’ve been as i sip patrón (yeah)
and who needs a money phone? my money talkin’, no vic damone (brr)
and who needs a wife when i keep that pipe? that’s mrs. jones (uh)
ain’t nothin’ worse than havin’ love for n*ggas with twisted souls (yeah)
the ones you call your brothers, grab the shovel and dig a hole (uh)
i’ve seen my own family stab my back, i should’ve known
they say sticks and stones’ll break your bones, i’m sticks and stones
i wish i could pick up phones, but
i know there ain’t no way in h*ll (yeah)
i think this rappin’ sh*t is cool and, yeah, i played it well
but really i been contemplatin’ quittin’ if we stayin’ real
but would you walk away from fifty million or be dave chappelle? (uh)
i’d rather cry inside a yacht than an ’88 deville
f*ck my b*tch over the balcony while we was chasin’ whales
private chefs, dinin’ best, lots of major meals
but when i’m with my kids, i’m at my best, that’s how i stay fulfilled (yeah)
nights in miami, gettin’ drunk and whippin’ foreigns (uh)
just copped the new urus, you still buffin’ up the taurus (d*mn)
stuntin’ on you n*ggas, fly as f*ck when i’m in orbit
bought my mansion all in cash, you n*ggas f*ckin’ up your mortgage (ooh)
you want the fame and glory but don’t got numbers to support it (word)
if you don’t give me my flowers, b*tch, i’m comin’ with a florist (d*mn)
your shorty ain’t a groupie, she just f*ck me ’cause i’m gorgeous
hate when n*ggas kiss and tell, y’all just ain’t nothin’ but informants
better get real, i do this for my n*ggas locked up, sleepin’ on bed still (yeah)
i do this for my n*ggas trappin’, workin’ on their best sk!lls (yeah)
for n*ggas out here stressin’, head is spinnin’ like roulette wheels (uh*huh)
tryna make it back to home base with snakes in the left field (joyner)
and i don’t know how death feels, but i’ll tell you how success feels
i’ll tell you what it’s like to have to worry ’bout your next meal (uh*huh)
i’ll tell you what it’s like to know who’s a hundred and who’s less real (uh*huh)
i’ll tell you what it’s like, uh, i’ll tell you what it’s like for real

- joyner lucas conway the machine

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