Conway The Machine - Carti lyrics

Conway the Machine [Demond Price] Buffalo, New York. U.S.

[Conway The Machine - Carti lyrics]

Uh, let's go outside and play
I wanna go outside and play
I wanna go and play in the streets, nigga
Haha

Uh, spit it for the street, Griselda
We be the voices niggas rob and sell dope
They ain't have too many choices
Rock a Rollie on my left wrist
Comfortable in a Royce
Pull up to the sea bar
Order a hundred oysters
My name in the class with
The Eminems and the Royces
That's why I don't respond to you rap niggas
It's pointless i keep my hammer close
I'm blicking it if I point it
Put tools in your mouth like a dentist
Make your appointment
Go 'head take a crack at me like
I ain't got the strap with me
Grimiest of all time
And there ain't no coming after me
My young boys'll whack for me
But I'll still pop a nigga, pull up on May
Fredo put this in the stash for me
Catch me in New York, riding through
20 stacks on me feeling real comfy
Lord Flea he gon' spaz for me
Call my niggas Fast Life I know
He got the gas for me paris OG
He said he 'bout to bring a half for me
Not too many niggas in the game
Is a match for me
Face paralyzed, still nobody out rapping me
Grimiest of all, nah, I'm the illest actually
Keep the MAC with me in case
These niggas try jacking me
It started as a robbery, but lead to a homi
The lead in the shottie
Knocked his head from his body
I jumped back in my shit
And sped in the Masi' let you forever sleep
That's a dead nigga hobby
I should have my own XXL cover
The spooky issue
I'm way too official, fuck a drum
Now I spit cruiser missiles
Knock a limb off your body
Like a bazooka hit you
We nothing alike if you
Don't shoot your pistol
Them fuck niggas is goofy with you
I don't trust a soul
It be your own homies that
Plot to move against you
Set you up, wet you up
I can't let 'em catch me bruh
That's why I keep the heckler tucked
The hardest out is definitely us
Gx, uh, FR, AK's, the TECs and stuff
The MACs and all the extra stuff
You niggas get your vestes up
Get above your neck hit up
Griselda 'til the death of us
30 shots'll mess you up
Mortician dress you up, ahhh

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