[Intro: Conway]
"Okay"
Yeah
You know what's up, nigga
"My team, living this American dream"
Not a fucking game, nigga
Machine, bitch, Griselda, DJ Premier
Look
[Verse 1: Conway]
I don't beef on the internet, I approach you
I ain't shooting five with a nigga, I gotta smoke you
My dog said his box just landed, he got his load through
Drive by music, this shit he can pop his toast to
His chopper smoke and it adios you
My buzz bi-coastal, took the game over like I'm supposed to
I'm in position you cannot get close to
I got shot in my throat, still got four classics at my disposal
And the bitches admire my ways
I was wilding inside of a cage, now I set fire to stage
Every verse recited is wave
And I ain't writing a page, hardest nigga out 'til I lie in my grave
Cook the white up in the microwave
You at work tryna get holiday pay, I'm on an island for days
Getting money like Big Meech '06
This Griselda, DJ Preemo shit, motherfucker
[Chorus: Westside Gunn]
Ayo, rich lord, poor lord, read the Headlines
'04, me and 'Chine Gun was packing dimes
Coke spot, I had at least 100 and a line
Sell another brick and we copping twin fives
[Verse 2: Westside Gunn]
Ayo, out in Daytona, Rolex Daytona
Fiend hit it once, fell out into a coma
John Elliot, MAC-10s out the Rover
Might shoot it 32 times for the culture
Niggas bagging boy, rocking loverboy
Undercover neighbor, turn the oven on
It only had two bodies, I put another on
We sold a thousand bricks after summer gone
Drive-in, the forty-five with the potato lie in the right hand
Dyin' first them burglars flew on the high end
The prices won't drop unless you buy ten
Hopped out the Lamborghini Urus like Guy Fish
In my cell reminiscing when I used to dime pitch
The rhyme sick, K in the 'Vette (Corvette), Wang trench
"How you doin', Flygod?", same shit, bigger bag
Cocaine killin' it with the dealer tag
[Chorus: Westside Gunn & BENNY THE BUTCHER]
Ayo, rich lord, poor lord, read the Headlines (Uh huh)
'04, me and 'Chine Gun was packing dimes (Yeah)
Coke spot, I had at least 100 and a line (Uh)
Sell another brick and (Yo) we copping twin fives
[Verse 3: BENNY THE BUTCHER]
I skip town with the money, my bitch the accountant
You ever try to board a plane with a brick in your outfit
You know I work hands on, had to sit in them houses
Learned from real drug dealers, not from internet browsing
Who cooked the food in the kitchen that they filling they mouth with? (Me)
Then headed West like Deion when he split with the Falcons
Look at me and see a vision of Malcolm, slightly grinning
But long as we keep winning, I can live with the outcome, uh
Drake had Rihanna, Mike had Madonna
But I drove a few bricks through the Carolinas (Woo)
It's true that they underestimate you when you're modest
So I'm fronting on 'em every chance I get, to be honest (Nigga)
Ask about Griselda, they tell you that we the hottest
Flip whatever I can sell ya 'cause failure won't be an option
Yeah, I sowed a block together like a seamstress
And I lived to rap about it on some Preem shit, let's go
[Chorus: Westside Gunn]
Ayo, rich lord, poor lord, read the Headlines
'04, me and 'Chine Gun was packing dimes
Coke spot, I had at least 100 and a line
Sell another brick and we copping twin fives
