Conway The Machine, Westside Gunn - 08' Shit lyrics

Ns feel? cos this shit real fam
Only cop work if it's white
Or if it's real tan
Sixteen in the clip and one in the chamber
Now you hit screaming like a bitch
I thought you was gangster
Laid out bleeding on your kicks dog
My clap is official
Leave the house without your banger
That's when they get you
Yo lord my third eye shine bright
Blinding your sight
You ain't seen this much crime
In your life son
It's real out in these fields
Every night a n get killed
I'm outside a club waving a steel
You get your shit peeled running up on mine
Just cos you got a problem with the kid
Get at the end of something
Cos it's a long line


Field boot, Carhartt brown
Conceal the four pound
Let me know if it's going down
We can get it on right now (Let's do it)
Two guns up I'm wylin' 'til my days is up
Attacking on shit
Trying to fill them cages up
Ns up north will blaze you in the yard
Get your face cut
Don't make me have to run in your cage
You fake fucks get your safe touched
I'm straight to the H2 dealer
To spend that cake up
Then I'm murking off in that grey truck
Twenty fours and screens in it
Watching Casino with the team in it
We? spinners, getting high, I'm looking fly
Jeans cost five hundred
There's five guns in the trunk
Try your luck and get fucked up, what?
Gucci aviator glasses, Evisu fabrics
Blowing a ratchet
Put a hole in you bastards, for practice
Told you homeboy, I'm no average
Try to reach my status and get denied access
Come home on that jail shit
I'll put a bullet in your helmet
Finish you will send you to hell quick word
This Street Entertainment
You can't stop us dawg
What you think them choppers for?

I'm like sports seventy sliding
Coupes off the melody
Salam lord, still on the run from a felony
I sold drugs more than half my life
Jewellery on
I make ns wanna snatch my ice, word life
We got Lex coupes and Beamers over here
Pin trigger MACs, bulletproof ask Premier
Handling nines
Banana hammers out son tan five
Incline-line Cartiers for the summertime
Le Tigre polos on, three Sixties in a caesar
Big Cuban links looking like we crazy on
Medallion swing, you're peepin' 'em lord
Breathing through a ski mask
Killing my own peoples to get cash
Fuck 'em
Ride through your 'hood in a Beamer wag' yo
Keep the upstate style, fuck Cristal
We drink Henny straight
And turn Sly Green wild
Million dollar deals on tables
Canary face Jesus
Swinging off a rose-gold cable
Politickin' on OT money, I think Ohio next
Cutter just crashed the E-Class
I think I drive the Lex
Rolex money since eighteen
Having model bitches titties out while
They cooking up burn clean
Trump Plaza,? Evisu sagger
Doing in your Birk' handbagger
Crack bags filled with fishscale
I do twenty-five to life, as long
As I'm rich in jail, a yo
I hold an automatic
These streets where I'm from it's heartless
Plus I like big jewels
And y'all ns starving
Le Roy?, throwing money out a Porsche
Colourful stones watching Al
Capone getting tortured
Drug dealers, cash rule n we the illest alive
A bunch of fly killers holding up nines
I'm used to
Standing on the block all day with dimes
Salute to blowing up and pushing Q45s
Peace lord, Bentley is all
Take the ARs on tour and? see the? for pure
Big chains on just bravado I ain't a God
Since the days with the four
Loaded MAC just in case it turned war
Body died forty shots and I'm
Look at the board
Since that thirty dollar double-up hustling
In front of the store
Word boot in your door
Jesus piece flooded galore
Chrome eight hundred shot his whole face off