Conway The Machine, Benny the Butcher - Hide the Body lyrics

"Go by them slow" gunshots "Oh, Shit"

Brrt yeah uh

Pop him in the Bando then hide the body
Took police a whole month to find the body

We the mobsters so I’ma die a Gotti
G Wagon, I embody
Skyscraper law with acquired lobby

I drive the Mazi
Got the blicky on my hip as well
Get hit with shells
I’m that nigga and your bitch can tell
(she know)

It’s water whipped then my clique can tell
Dope boys hit my cell, sat
On the paper so long, it’s getting stale

Jue Lan Club eating lobster, fried rice
Chicken satay, peanut sauce, watches got ice
Blood bottles got spikes

Young riders got life

Slung product, high price

Drug violence, Glock fights
Plus niggas I used to run with is rich
From making bricks do frontflips then ate
Off the strips that I funded

Niggas I used to pump with
Nigga I used to go to free
Lunch with turned into a killer
He’ll leave you slumped quick
I keep my pistol on me plotting to shoot
Same 40 belows I seen Pac rocking in Juice

Tucked the 30-shot I got for a deuce
It was a dread, he put a pick in your head
But you’re not from The Roots i’m the best
The shit I dropped was the proof (TT3)
Wes and Con walked me to the door
I turned up when I got in the loot

I push the button, drop the top of the Coupe
I came a long way from trap kitchen
Whipping trying to lock up a deuce

You know I’m good out in Yonkers with Louch
Bullets don’t got no names on them, trust me
They’re confident too

Yeah, even in prison, all the opps get it too
I send a kite behind the wall and
Get him shot for a soup knot so big
Keep busting the rubber bands off
Hustle gram czar
I can't call another man boss
Own properties
I don’t got no fucking landlord
Put her in Gucci, I told her
Take them fucking Vans off, bitch

Gun in hand, I’m dumping like Duh Duh Man
Y’all turn your back on a thief or
You cut his hands off no bank account
Dirty money in the crib washed
My resume with the plug about 300 bands long
The Butcher, nigga

"Griselda" "Griselda" "Griselda"