Conway The Machine, Raekwon - TH3RD F lyrics

Whippin' yay at the fiend house
Tuck the yopper in the fiend couch
'07, light Dutches, nigga
My gun game, you can't fuck with, nigga
Break both shins, put you on crutches, nigga
Po-po at the door you better flush it, nigga
He sold 19, only a bird left

D's kicked his door and found it
That's his third F
D's kicked his door and found it
That's his third F
D's kicked his door and found it, hold up

Look, since 15 been a TEC shooter
Did a stretch, came home big as Lex Luger
Grilled lobster with the conch fritters
Griselda, bitch, who can fuck with us?
I'm from the city niggas get smoked
For a half a ki
Versace specs, silk shirt on, bitch
I'm Master P (hahahaha)
Master kush, I done smoked about a half a P
'Bout to lock the game up
And bury the master key
Had the foreign parked at my crime spot
Stick on the back seat if the dram' pop
40 dollar ace, lyin' around block
I know I ain't shit, I even sold my mom rocks
Free the gangstas in Clinton Max and Comstock
Attica and Wyoming, Albion, the guys know me
Might go see my jeweller, buy 5 Rollies
Just to remind myself, it's my time homie
Bodies on the blicky
Hit his body with the 50
Shot shotty 'til it flippy
Catch a body then I'm probably
In the Masi doin' 60
In Atlanta smokin' sour
Ain't nobody fuckin' with me
I'm a legend in the flesh
Respect me like your father
Fuck them pussy niggas
I will hit 'em with the carbon
Put you on the front of
A t-shirt, we merk whoever, nigga

Yeah man, little niggas better be careful
Man
Them little niggas out there man, playin'
Man playin' them big drums, nigga
Be careful, man, for real, man
It's Griselda life, nigga, Wu Tang, nigga
That's right, for real
Hold the fort gradually, nigga
Keep nothin' but Uzis
With motherfuckin' big potato skin on
The top of it, nigga
You know what I'm sayin'?
This real life, nigga
Don't get caught up, nigga
This is not a game nigga, this is not a game
We will take your sneakers
Take all that bread and everything, nigga
For real, man, word up, man, word to mother
Man you know the voice, nigga
You know who it is, man, call your boss in

Egg shell S's, Guess jeans on
I blow finesseness
Caught me in Texas with Nexus
Cards and stolen Lexuses
Me and my guest list of
Gun holders who blow pedestrians
Half a boat load of coke
Inside my jets and shit
Off like a Mexican, my best friend dip
We run together, fuck all your next man shit
Fuck your captain, he overreacted
I'll slowly blow your back in
Catch you in traffic
The nozzle spit sporadic
We runs frenetic, I runs the cabinet
That gun's Ben Affleck i drag flips
Get caught in the cross like Catholics
I hold a black slips, I slap tricks
I mack slick you dap dicks
Clowns get found naked in black whips
And sign him off, he wasn't mine
He wasn't slime in Rolf's
Then this rich niggas' Drink Champs
Can't buy me off
Niggas is homos and bozos and logos
Ridin' Volvos
Your clothes on, your hoes is sold
You lost ya soul