| Woo, yeah
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| Yeah, woo
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| Woo
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| Brrt
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| Look (Machine, bitch)
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| You gotta salute me (Salute me), I’m in rare form
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| I’m back in my Devil’s Reject bag, you gotta rebuke me (Huh?)
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| You gotta excuse me, I’m the new Jim Jones, Capo, and Louis
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| Don’t fuck around, get shot in your kufi (Boom, boom)
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| I be rockin' this jewelry, lot of supermodels try to seduce me
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| All from the shit that I jotted on loose leaf (Hahahaha)
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| And she gon' bring her friend with her so I get a two-piece
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| I usually got the throttle and the Prada crossbody, I’m Gucci (What's good,
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| nigga?)
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| I had rappers in my section tryna drink up my bottles like groupies
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| Ain’t no rapper stoppin' my two-three (Not at all)
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| That’s the zone I’m in, I write with a golden pen
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| But lately, I ain’t even been writin', I just been goin' in (Go in, nigga)
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| They say the eyes is the windows to the souls of men
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| I know some friends pocket watchin', plottin' on the dough I spend (I know it)
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| No driver license, I drove a Benz
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| Everything I drop an album of the year contender, here I go again (Let's go)
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| Made a few million, I barely announced it (Huh?)
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| Rappin' better than niggas, I can barely pronounce shit (Ha)
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| Gettin' to this position was like scalin' a mountain
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| Now look at me, weighin' money on the scale when I’m countin' (Woo, talk to 'em)
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| We was really whippin' them grams (Huh?)
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| Really gettin' them bands, get my lil' sister a Lamb'
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| I came back to kill these niggas again
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| Lyrics written in Braille, nigga, you gotta feel it to understand
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| So when they say, «Who iller?» |
| I’m like, «Really, nigga? |
| You playin'»
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| You really must be his fan or ain’t hearin' the shit I’m sayin' (Hah)
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| Gettin' rich off t-shirts really wasn’t the plan
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| But every time I drop, I reel in two hundred grand, nigga (You see the bag,
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| right?)
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| Niggas try blockin' my goals, I’ma make it Messi (You see what I did there?)
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| My OG told me, «Gotta kill a nigga you love, do it clean, you don’t make it
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| messy»
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| Bells palsy, bitches still say I’m sexy (Hahahaha)
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| Remember I used to go put work in, I would take the Pesci (Huh?)
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| That’s what we call the thirty-eights to make sure they respect me (Cap)
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| Correctional facilities can’t correct me, nigga (Brrt)
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| Machine, bitch
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| Look (Yeah)
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| From King to a GOD, nigga (Brr, brr, brr)
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| Ah |
Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Jesus Khrysis, artist - CONWAY THE MACHINE. Album song From King To A GOD, in the genre Иностранный рэп и хип-хоп