Letra de Kin Xpress - Conway the Machine

(Feat. Larry June)

Conductor

Yeah (Conductor)

Hm, Machine back

Ah, you know, light up

At this point I'm just unfuckwitable, nigga

Hm-hm, yeah

Four chicken wings, lobster fried rice, still on that hood shit

Four homicides in the same night, we on that bullshit

I'm Trick Daddy with the pots, whippin' that girl, she such a good bitch

18-wheelers bringin' the za, we gettin' hood rich (Uh, look)

Blew 50 at the Louis V store out in Paris

Rollin' up a hundred crowns at the Louvre, bitch I'm arrogant

You know papi on 10th Street had the heroin

On the megabus takin' bricks down to Maryland (Talk to these niggas, king, yeah)

On the megabus takin' bricks down to Maryland

Your dog locked, you keep him outside and take care of him

I'm pullin' up, German engineering, bitches stare at him

The Benz white, my shooter like Glen Rice

Champion piece, a pesto margarita thin slice

Big pipe in this 3X Pelle Pelle

I hate all of you rappers, I'm Melle Mel

The flow is Kane vs. Undertaker, this Hell in a Cell

Really from the trenches, give a fuck 'bout no record sales

Well, the fit fresh, I just need a photo

Griselda Records, I should be the logo

Bitch text me, said she 'bout to leave Komodo

R&B star, shit, it probably was Coco

Four chicken wings, lobster fried rice, still on that hood shit

Four homicides in the same night, we on that bullshit

I'm Trick Daddy with the pots, whippin' that girl, she such a good bitch

18-wheelers bringin' the za, we gettin' hood rich

I done seen niggas fall a lot, seen niggas ball a lot

Two million tucked in my parking spot

Triple that on real estate, my couch cost 88

I call that sittin' on 80K, I'm heavyweight (Pushin' buttons in the Porsche and shit)

TEC on me like IT, quick like Ali

Bruce Lee Roy, choppin' nine keys

Prepare for the bullshit, I'm ducked off, sippin' on a chai tea

Spillin' weed crumbs on my white tee

Italian wood floors in my crib, I'm not a ball player

If you not talkin' big numbers, I'ma call you later

Glidin' in the 992 lookin' like Terminator

Me and money correlated, I'm manifesting bigger things

Been seein' RICO's, block got swept clean

Copped the Benz from Nino's, tucked it on 23's

I was 'bout 19, baby boy on the way

Weighin' up 50 P's, prayin' that I make it safe

Prayin' that these niggas (Hold up, hold up, hold up)

Prayin' that they won't tell, knowin' that these niggas fake

Still on that hood shit (Ay, ay, ay, ay)

Candy house not y'alls, on my way to serve a J

What's happenin'? Conway

Comin' live from Hunter’s Point, California, nigga (Ay, ay, ay, ay, ay, ay)

All the way to Buffalo (Man, damn)

TFM (Condutor, we have a problem!)

Griselda

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