Letra de Surf & Turf - Conway the Machine

(Feat. Jay Worthy, T.F, 2 Eleven, Ab-Soul)

Check it out (Con–Con–Conductor)

Yeah, Con, you know I got you

My brother, for real

This family right here, yeah

Like a Vietnam vet, I'm still trying to get my dick wet

I'ma get high, yeah, let her suck me like Skip said

That might went over your head, drinkin downers, no Sudafed

Dressed in red, no valentine, but funk love instead

Foolish bread, the type that come in off of what we said

Rapper shit, I was still young when I was brackin, kid

The Lexo, bubble eye edition, had that bitch on Fig'

Reminisce to Smokey while I smoke on Biggs

In my bed like peas, this the life I live

Talk it 'cause I lived it like Blood, this the life I lived

Made it out of pimpin, some still in it, shit I dodged a bid

Fuck is this? My fee a hunnid thousand since I dropped with Wiz

Holy water, Bangkok sippin, I retired this

World wide Worthy got them singing like they from the set

Dead Prez Vol. 2 CD in my red Benz

Never hung with hookers for the look unless she lookin rich

Now look at this, the AP plain Jane, the Prezi look gold as piss

(I'ma keep going)

Niggas don't feel the Piru in your voice, it don't come off vulture

I'm a west boy 2L rider, Gonzalez, real funkster

Oh, he from Canada, Indian tour make you still wonder

How he stack better than Blood? Bitch I'm a real soldier

Wars with across towns, wake up, serve a opp like a cup of Folgers

If B-Rule mama don’t know you, then I don't know you

Four-deuce, hopping out of Bentleys but it’s Bei Ru

Stay true, I don’t switch up, bitch I stay on

Roll down the windows, do you got Grey Poupon?

Doot doot, stain you like ketchup, the white we wet up

Ayo, they straight mobbin', the boys around my way, they goblins

But Machine, I’m the apex monster

You writing sixteens, I’m like JK Rowling’s

Four-hundred eighty-eight page novel

It may not even take eight hours (Woo)

We drink half and leave the rest on the table, shit, we waste Spade bottles

My pay way larger

I stay plugged in like the PlayStation console

And if any dismay may follow, we spray throttle

I nicknamed the yay Latto (Hahaha)

I ripped it out the plastic

Know some dudes in Cali that’ll rip you out your jacket

Shootins and two possessions of pistols on my jacket

The shit I'm on is classic

See they need me on they records, I'm assisting all they magic

Bitch I’m Scott Skiles, the AP been cropped out

I see a bunch of little me's that want my spot now, that’s my style

Opened up the lane and you hot now

I’m in the trenches, holding choppers made in Moscow

Yeah, we was generous to these degenerates

They keep pretending it’s love so they can reap the benefits

I get you touched in any city, boy, my reach is limitless

A bunch of goons come and breach your premises, nigga (Blrrt)

Machine, bitch

Uh, three man weave with the mean stitch

How I remember bitches hustlin, sellin clean piss

I'm forced the ball alone 'cause how my team dipped

Feelin like Ace Boogie how I need Mitch

He still a nigga, he tryna insurance up a lean lick

These days, bitches too friendly, I need a mean bitch

One had to witness that all but still ain't seen shit or heard nothin'

How you do biz and still ain’t learn nothin'?

All I know is fast money, that’s how I learned to budget

Red lights slipping, can’t believe it’s not butter

Hit his gut then his chin like the Stone Cold Stunner

Uh, Gucci North Face puffer, easy to tuck it

I told you I feel like Ace Boogie, "Don’t call me Lucky"

I was made for it, yeah, I’m on Bunk, might throw the shades on

They slept on me, nightmares, that’s where I came for 'em

Shooting out the Eddie Bauer Explorer

All my shooters who ain't dead, alive, we 'bout to hit tour

Uh, came a long way from bottlin pours

Never did Neosporin, yeah, I’m proud of my scars

Look, Blame Kansas, yeah, I’m proud of my dawgs

Hit Neiman’s like Petco, uh, Prada my dawgs, Killa!

Profit enlarged, I’m a chemist, I turn powder to hard

Kept it Skanless through the war like I’m Oliver North

Slide with a torch, if niggas green, we robbing the source

Already on my next lick, ain’t no time to remorse

Ay, what’s brackin, five? Politics, Illuminati, don’t get sacrificed

Switch on the back of the stick, yeah, that’s rapid fire

About my chili and chicken, I’m big trippin

S-Corps and LLCs, it’s big business

Yeah, I’m an icon, jumping out a drop don

Top me off 'til she get lockjaw then she gettin dropped off

Louis, Tom Ford, countin pounds out in London, I’m a top boy

This lifestyle, gotta be willing to die for

Ay, man, raging against the machine

With assistance from the Machine

Del Amo, aiming at your enamel, say cheese

Imagine the Bible recited by the Elohim

Then wake up and say hello to me

Different gold commode, same shit, smell the potpourri

Nah'mean? Uh

The best thing since sliced bread, save a loaf for me

And two fish, who is you, bitch?

Jesus wept and doves cry, say it with hubris

Leggo my ego, I do it for the people

Drop a ice cube in my glass, half full, then squabble with Deebo

I’m not what you need bro, I’m stopping with the mob against evil

Applyin knowledge off the top of the noggin then scribing in Hebrew

Somebody stop me, I left the mask off, I’m gettin too cocky

Lil' mama beside me is gettin way too sloppy

I’m finna take her to Nassau County

Drop a bounty on her then mash off

Skrrt, skrrt, skrrt, howdy do, ho?

I can’t even drive, I’ll still slide on you though

From here to your turf, from Earth to Pluto

With this superfluous service, I deserve a kudos

But fuck all this verbiage, long as you know

That I know what you know, the sentiment is mutual

The dude you know who’s quick to drop a stack on your cap

Like we playing Jenga and I’m wack

Don’t be hard headed protecting that

Soulo

¿Te encanta la letra de Surf & Turf? ¡Compártela con tus amigos!