2 Eleven, T.F, Conway The Machine - Blackout lyrics

Uh, look uh, okay, okay
(Olman80)

Uh, spazzed out
Tryna figure out how I blacked out
In the traphouse with bitches doing
Lashes with they ass out
"Ambitionz Of A Ridah" in the background
The streets is like the octagon
If you break down, don't tap out
Niggas out here storytellin' so the police
They camped out
What happened to that old shit
Hit super MACs and go max' out?
Fuck them others who let the flash out
Fall face first like Pakyal
I post pics holding prop guns but
It's real shit in my background
Mashed down, MAK-90 hit the backstreets
And get crumbed, ayy, ayy
Hit the Eastside with the AGs
And go dump, yeah, yeah
Yeah, I'm tired hanging like a bandana
'round a Crip nigga steering wheel
New brand new set of wheels, new bad bitch
Hair and nails done
A1 like raw year, plenty residue dollar bills
Potting licks out at the Playa's Club
You get tied up like Dolla Bill
Yeah, I got mine out the mud, nigga
Like a lean head popping seals
I said I got mine out the
Mud, nigga, leaving yellow tape
Popping shells (yeah, uh)

Fresh out of jail, got it hot as hell
Retaliation, nigga, might as well
Yeah, my young nigga get a lot of kills, ah
Busting missions out of Boneville
With the cocaine, I made a lot of seals
With the proceeds off a clientele
Bought a hundred guns with a lot of shells
Get the opposition, nigga, slide to hell
Had to show these niggas I could rap rap
Made a half a milli' out the trap trap
But the kitchen table like a tat tat
With the 38, nigga, blap-blap
Young Gunna, no slatt-slatt
With a couple screws like I'm Fat Pack
Rolls Royce, nigga, matte black
After this verse, it's a wrap-wrap
Bleed niggas like I missed 'em
Mike Amiri jeans, spent a Crip on 'em
Chopping blocks like a Flintstone
I'm mixin' dog with the fentanyl
All blood money getting rinsed off
With the royalties from residuals
They side, they love us but I'm dissing 'em
Flipping hoes, that's original
Shitting on 'em, that's intentional
All these rap niggas ain't original
Every single one sound similar
I can't pick and choose who to listen to
I cook waves, we flooding 'em, nigga
Competition, we fuckin' 'em
Every four hunnid, forty-eight grams
Make sure we gon' double up, ah
Twenty-five bands four times
Nigga damn near ran a hunnid up
They should've never gave them
Niggas no money
Knowing they was finna run 'em up, ah
Fuck it up, but then fuck it off
Niggas having money, I can't tell
Give a fuck about no government
Them niggas politic theyself, yeah (yeah)

Spazzed out
Whole lot of Vs lining up at the back house
(Ha)
Told 'em wait 'til you all the way behind
The gate before you pull your cash out (Ha)
Put a little extra baking soda in the
Pot and get another half out (When?)
You only got one body, nigga
That ain't really shit to brag 'bout (Ha)
I can push the button right now
I can get a couple niggas scratched out
(Brr) like I'm a waxing menace, we
Gon' smoke them niggas
Then we gon' stab out (Ayy, I'm stabbed out)
I heard he had your spot mapped up
Got your bitch tied up with a gagged mouth
Went in the closet, took that bag out
(Where it's at, bitch?)
Put all the pounds in the Hefty
Look like we taking trash out (Haha)
If it's pressure
We spin and we ain't gon' let it drag out
(Brr) told that bitch to put up that plate
And don't leave them bags out
Where I'm from you can't put up your peace
It's getting bad out (It's bad)
But I'm a straight goon
Doing push-ups and holding us in a dayrun
(Ha)
Your turn to eat comin', but it ain't soon
(It's my turn) i'm cooking up
The downstairs neighbors can smell
The yay fumes (Ha ha ha)
I stacked so much money that I'm
Running out of safe room (Ha)

Machine, haha, yeah