| Forty five degrees outside in butter leathers
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| I can’t fuck her if her thighs don’t rub together
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| I can’t bare bear nothing that’s less than a bayonet
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| I mean, I’m from where your regrets is a clear pitch
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| Between you and your desires and shooters is for hire
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| Either that or the wizardry move I’m like Hezekiah
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| All hail a benevolent beast from the park rails
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| With the charm to turn over his ex like cartwheels
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| And we out of lives, hundred thousand and sports cars
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| Swimming pool full of liquor baby, Hennessy all stars
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| And they on bottle for bottle and hopping out of Rovers
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| And draped in Nike Tech sweats like I’m supposed to
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| The low side Kobe 10's feel like they was loafers
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| You mistook the Nike Tech print and made a poster
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| God bless, it went from sharpie painting the projects
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| To spending Labor Day with the Blige’s
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| And that’s not a punch line…
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| Ayo, the Lex Coupes, the Beemers and the Benz
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| Black will shoot a nigga in the ribs
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| Sent Ike back for another ten
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| Keep ya head up
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| To the hood, Eastside, Westside and that shit
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| Griselda, nigga, you can suck a dick (Griselda.)
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| The only thing I’m thinking 'bout is getting rich
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| The work fish, nigga
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| I maneuver through the sewer, the Ruger in the dash
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| I ain’t a computer nigga, I will shoot a nigga fast
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| Do a nigga bad, made a move to get the bag
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| I finessed, pulled up on West and threw my nigga half
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| I’m tryna be Jewish with the cash
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| I moved a lil glass, took a bird and threw it in the bath boy
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| Lately I’ve been feeling like Ewing in the draft
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| You ain’t a threat you just another stupid nigga mad, boy
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| I’ll have niggas run up on your spot today
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| Glock to the face of your queen, make her unlock the safe
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| I got shot but I do not stop, how can I not be great?
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| Recorded with the shell in my throat and still dropped my tape
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| Niggas ain’t never did nothing but got a lot to say
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| I red bottom shock 'em rocking my aqua 8's
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| Me and my niggas on top to stay
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| I came out the gate, fifty shots to spray
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| That’s how we operate, nigga!
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| Ayo, the Lex Coupes, the Beemers and the Benz
|
| Black will shoot a nigga in the ribs
|
| Sent Ike back for another ten
|
| Keep ya head up
|
| To the hood, Eastside, Westside and that shit
|
| Griselda, nigga, you can suck a dick (Griselda.)
|
| The only thing I’m thinking 'bout is getting rich
|
| The work fish nigga |
Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Sky Joint , by - CONWAY THE MACHINE. Song from the album Reject 2, in the genre Иностранный рэп и хип-хоп