Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Bang, artist - CONWAY THE MACHINE.
Date of issue: 18.07.2019
Age restrictions: 18+
Song language: English
Bang |
Ayo, I use the Arm & Hammer just to fluff my brick |
Say what I wanna say and I don’t give a fuck, I’m rich (Ahh) |
Tuck my fifth, don’t hesitate to bust my shit |
I tell you niggas like Kyrie, «Suck my dick» (Hahahaha) |
I don’t trust a soul, I don’t even trust my bitch (Uh-uh) |
Before I fall in love, I’d rather cut my wrist (Ahh) |
I sweat Ace of Spades, nigga, that’s how much I sip |
Body a rap nigga quick before the Dutch got twist |
(Ayo, let’s roll somethin') |
Yeah, the shotty ring, this shit is not a thing (Uh-huh) |
The chopper make your body lean, my niggas body things (Brr) |
Uh, I’m with the jackboys, I’m with the robbin' team (Uh-huh) |
On my mama, I never rocked a pair of Robin jeans (Hahahaha) |
Everything I jot is mean, how you gon' stop Machine? |
My name, it probably ring like Las Vegas slot machines |
The MAC by my pelvis in my Helmut Lang (Uh-huh) |
The shells’ll bang, make everything outta your helmet hang |
Uh, the mayo jar was Hellmann’s when I swirled the 'caine |
Then I wrapped the yayo up in cellophane (Woo) |
My shooter got Dame Lillard from the elbow aim |
I thought of that while I was courtside at the Melo game (Ahh) |
Bricks are off-white, I imported some (Uh-huh) |
Whippin' all night until the mornin' come (All night, nigga) |
Still pitchin' long nights until my fortune come |
That’s big checks on the side like the Off-White Jordan 1s, ugh! |
Ayo, they think this shit a game, nigga (This shit a game, nigga) |
Ayo, they think this shit a game (This shit a game, oh word?) |
Ayo, they think this shit a game |
Until I pull up, let it ring (Let it ring) |
Until I pull up, let it ring (Let it ring) |
Until I pull up, let it ring |
Ayo, they think this shit a game, nigga (This shit a game, nigga) |
Ayo, they think this shit a game (This shit a game, huh?) |
Ayo, they think this shit a game |
Until I pull up, let it bang, nigga (Let it bang, nigga) |
Until I pull up, let it bang (Let it bang) |
Until I pull up, let it- |
I used to be a man of the people |
Hit the clubs and mingle (What up?) |
Used to dream one day I’d be fuckin' pink like a flamingo (Pink) |
That was back when I smoked Canibus |
Man, but it was tough, 'cause I was a fan of his |
So it sucked to hand him his ass, but |
Yeah, lookin' back on my feuds |
How me and Ja Rule almost got cool |
'Cause we shot pool back in '01 |
Was it '02? |
I don’t know, but |
Something told me fuckin' not to |
Then we got stuck in high school, I shoved an Oscar up his wazoo |
Yeah, but I think of the rappers I slayed and buried like every night |
And every career I might’ve killed, sometimes I say a prayer and I |
Wonder is there a heaven for a G? |
And if so, is the sanctuary nice? |
Studios for rap like Coolio, shootin' craps at gangster’s paradise |
Huh, here a mic, there a mic |
Everywhere a mic, share and share alike |
But just don’t compare alike |
Instead of comparin' me, pick a fair fight |
Compare me to lightnin', that similarity’s strikin' |
Compare me to Jaws |
Compare me to Manson, Marilyn or Charles |
Compare me to Nas, Biggie, or Pac |
Do not compare me to that Iggy bitch |
Or all this fuckin' Milli Vanilli hip-hop |
This is where all that silly shit stops |
Compare me to the pistol that triggered this thought |
The semi, the Glock, 9 millis get cocked, I’m sending a shot |
Don’t come around with them floss raps tryna stunt |
Compare me to Meek, big wheelies get popped |
One by one, compare 'em to scabs, I’m picking them off |
They’re going home to fuck Nicki Minaj, aw |
Compare me to Diggity-Das, yah |
I’m hickity-hitting it raw, ha |
In the trailer park (Haha) |
Told her I’d play the part like Kanan Stark’s |
Ate her twat like a Tater Tot, oh shit |
Get the strap like a trainin' bra |
Lunchtime like at eight-o'clock |
But Shady’s not for the faint of heart |
Goin' at these pricks like Lorena Bobbitt |
Y’all want drama, we can make a scary movie like Marlon Wayans |
Y’all lookin' at the charred remains of Charlamagne tha God |
Slim whip, Westside, and Conway are not playin' |
I cock back, aim, and I spray ya like (Bang) |