Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Ameenah's Van, artist - CONWAY THE MACHINE. Album song From King To A GOD, in the genre Иностранный рэп и хип-хоп
Date of issue: 17.12.2020
Age restrictions: 18+
Record label: Drumwork, EMPIRE, Griselda
Song language: English
Ameenah's Van |
The streets needed this gospel, I said, «Don't worry, I got this» |
Told my girl, «Just stay solid,» I promise, just trust the process |
Used to take Ameenah’s van just so I can go sell my projects (Remember that?) |
Makin' sure I ate back when not a dollar was in my pocket |
Look all the shit I accomplished with you as my accomplice |
Niggas I thought was rockin' with me, they was pocket watchin' (Them niggas was |
fraud) |
You runnin' up your bag, but your family still ain’t got shit (Huh?) |
You bustin' down your watch, but your mama still in the projects (Come on) |
I guess they gon' need me to lead by example (Ha) |
Used to stand on Burgard, lettin' fiends get a sample (Here, take this) |
Fifteen, I got head from Jeannine in a bando (Uh-huh) |
Now I’m the king, every beat gettin' beat up and trampled (Talk to 'em) |
Thirty in the magazine when I speed in the Lambo (Brr) |
Shooter got his rag on, people think I’m with Rambo (What up, nigga?) |
If a nigga eager to scramble, I’m squeezin' this hammer (Uh-huh) |
Givin' you jewels, appreciate everything that I hand you |
I hope you cherish everything that I leave you before I perish |
When I’m no longer here in the physical but in the spirit |
I tried to put my gun down, but now I gotta stay near it |
Every night a dream’s of me gettin' murdered, it’s nightmarish |
Paranoia’d up, that’s why I grip my.40 up |
Forty-one millimeter Presidential, shit was forty plus (Shit was forty plus) |
Got the throttle on me when I go to pick my shorty up (Boom, boom, boom, boom, |
boom, boom, boom) |
In case a nigga mad, he see my neck and wrist is watered up (Talk to 'em) |
Trust in Allah but still tie up my camo up in the yard |
Paranoid, tryna buy every hammer I come across (Uh-huh) |
From them days we was whippin' up grams in the mayo jar |
To a number-one album, yeah, mama, you made a star |
Still drivin' the latest car when I’m ridin' through the ghetto, still (Cap) |
I reached a position most of you niggas never will (Ha) |
Bet you don’t know how fifty pointers in the bezel feel |
Late in my thirties but I’m a shooter like Melo still (Brr) |
Swervin' the coupe, playin' Burden of Proof |
Transparent in my music 'cause you deservin' the truth (You need the truth, |
right?) |
I could get you murdered in the streets like I murder this booth (Boom, boom, |
boom, boom, boom, boom, boom) |
Quarter mill' in jewelry on my neck, shit, I would wanna murder me too (A-ha) |
The Maybach burgundy, seats burgundy too (Cap) |
I’m the illest in this shit, this is certainly proof (This the proof, right?) |
Yeah, Machine rappin' like a circuit is loose (Woo) |
I just hope I left you inspired when my verses is through (Talk to 'em), uh |
I just hope I left you inspired when my verses is through |
I just hope I left you inspired when my verses is through |
I just hope I left you inspired when my verses is through |
I just hope I left you inspired when my verses is through |