Music Video

Credits

PERFORMING ARTISTS
Conway the Machine
Conway the Machine
Vocals
The Alchemist
The Alchemist
Programming
COMPOSITION & LYRICS
Alan Maman
Alan Maman
Composer
Demond Price
Demond Price
Lyrics
PRODUCTION & ENGINEERING
The Alchemist
The Alchemist
Producer

Lyrics

Lulu, uh Yeah, nigga, let me get a light, smokin' this mimosa Why the popo so vexed for? They raid the wrong house We had the dope and money next door (Hahahaha) Uh, the water on my neck pure And I ain't even get the backend yet from my next tour (Hah) Huh, that's what they so upset for They broke, so they gon' stress more I keep my gun on me, you left yours (They stressin') My money in line, that's why I'm good with the connect for Dog food in the trunk like I just left the pet store (Talk to 'em) Free the brodie, they got my dude up in the mountains (Hah) When we was 15 We used to shoot up niggas' houses (Doot, doot, doot, doot, doot) Started with an eight ball and then I moved a couple ounces I fucked niggas' baby mamas, even seduced a couple spouses (Hah) I just blew a couple thousand on shoes that ain't even out yet Pussy good, get a new outfit, Christian Loubs if her mouth wet (Woo) Uh, niggas ain't richer than me, I doubt that Set the streets on fire and niggas ain't put me out yet (Brr) Machine bitch I told my shooter when you shoot it, you unload (Doot, doot, doot, doot, doot, doot, doot, doot, doot, boom, boom, boom) Ain't it funny how we open laundromats to wash The money from the load? (Laundromat rap, nigga) My Spanish homie on the west He think he Tony, when he sniff, he lose control (Perico, ah) And he don't care who out there when he slide He gon' pull up and start emptyin' the pole (Doot, doot, doot, doot, doot, doot, brr) And everybody goes, nigga Yeah, I say the word, niggas gon' run down With F&N drum rounds You gettin' gunned down (Boom, boom, boom, boom, boom) Tried to hide my pole in the closet and my son found it So how to shoot this SK I gotta teach my son now (Teach him how to do it) How you gangster? You ain't never do shit (Hah) You ain't never shoot shit, never been to jail I could tell you a bitch (I could tell you a bitch, pussy) We was peddlin' sniff, told my brodie, "Let's fuck with this rap shit" He said he'd rather sell a few bricks (Cap) He said, "That's like me tellin' you quit" (Hah) When you the best at what you do Ain't nobody on your level who spit (I feel you) Came from the bottom, from shovelin' shit Now it's 30 pointers in the bezel Of my Oyster Perpetual wrist (Talk to 'em) Huh, your bitch could tell you I'm rich She came to my telly, the Ritz And I gave her impeccable dick (Hahahaha) I keep this MAC-11, I grip (Brr) I let off a clip when I throw my gun in the air Word to Fredro and Stick, bitch (Hah) I told my shooter when you shoot it You unload (Let that shit go, nigga, let that shit rip) Ain't it funny how we open laundromats to wash the Money from the load? (Wash and fold, nigga, hahahaha) My Spanish homie on the west He think he Tony, when he sniff, he lose control (Yeah, papi) And he don't care who out there when he slide He gon' pull up and start emptyin' the pole (Brr, brr) And everybody goes nigga Yeah, nigga, hahaha, everybody goes, nigga You, and you, and him too, nigga Haha, yeah Green light on all you niggas Niggas know what the fuck is up, nigga Yeah
Writer(s): Alan Maman, Demond Price Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
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