| When nose pop it’s a dome shot
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| Out come the yellow tape, road blocks
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| Look, I’m like monster in the gold drop
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| Gloves on while I’m loading shots in the old yop
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| Ah! |
| the pole longer than a old mop
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| Back seat shooter got the shotty with the nose chopped
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| The HK with the fold stock
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| When nose pop it’s a dome shot, yellow tape, road blocks
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| We sold drop, whip it make the Os lock
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| Gold pots, cocaine resy on my stovetop
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| Ah! |
| I put the game on notice
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| Back focused, the devil’s reject, the oldest
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| Pushin the lotus, on the back seat where the pole is
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| Pull up and unload it, back of your head is where the hole is
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| Hold this, this shit I wrote is considered some of the dopest
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| Shit we heard in a moment, if I go broke just show me where the stove is
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| My bitch one of the coldest, half black and Polish
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| Drop more steroids, they fiendin for another dosage
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| You know how we play it on this side
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| It’s Griselda bitch and we ain’t letting shit slide
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| We let them 50 round sticks fly
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| Your mama can’t afford a funeral she do another fish fry
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| Shooter pull up and it’s a murder show
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| Pull up it be a murder show
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| Shooter pull up it be a murder show
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| Pull up it be a murder show
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| 41 millimeter underneath the sleeve
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| Cicatriz Mac on me, if you blink I squeeze
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| Gunnin like I’m tryna leave the league
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| You gone need a spleen, pop it til you leak and bleed, please believe
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| I’m at a level you could never reach
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| Paid eleven for my sneaks, I’m a forever eat
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| Rose gold rollie but the bezel peak
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| Penthouse lows, Hollywood, that’s a better suite
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| I keep one or two goons, not eleven deep
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| Live killers, like Kawhi Leonard then don’t never speak
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| Shipping boxes, like four hundred pounds every week
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| I just keep elevatin, I’ll never peak
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| It’s my year, the Off White Nike Airs
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| Fuckin the girl of they dreams, givin them niggas nightmares
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| I want the smoke, I’m right here, nigga
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| You know how we play it on this side
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| It’s Griselda bitch and we ain’t letting shit slide
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| We let them 50 round sticks fly
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| Your mama can’t afford a funeral she do another fish fry
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| Shooter pull up and it’s a murder show
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| Pull up it be a murder show
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| Shooter pull up it be a murder show
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| Pull up it be a murder show |
Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Fish Fry , by - CONWAY THE MACHINE. Song from the album Blakk Tape, in the genre Рэп и хип-хоп