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Conway

Genres: Pop

Bullet Club Lyrics - Conway

[Intro: Conway] 

Yeah 

You niggas know what's up nigga 

Don't play stupid nigga 

Yeah 

Banks, what's up nigga? 

It's go time homie 

 

[Verse 1: Conway] 

Look, these niggas can't match what I create, I'm actually great 

Homie, I used to stash cracks by the gate 

The couple stacks I would make went to Mac on my waist 

I could send a package upstate and have you stabbed in the face 

Thought you was safe while behind the wall, you vagina soft 

Had you poked inside the yard, the youngin sliding off 

Before the Shady signing, I wore designer, y'all 

Dawg, I swear we cut from a different kind of cloth 

I'm kinda off, wig shot your brains fly across the street 

When I fire off the heat, then I'm riding off 

Wanna get my dick sucked inside a loft 

With Scotty O.G. inside of my cigar (smoking) 

Don't call my phone if you ain't tryna buy it all 

I'm the God, keep it a thousand, I inspire y'all 

I provided y'all with classics, dropped the hardest tape since '94 

But I started out supplying raw 

Okay, I get it, my face is twisted 

But considering my facial image, what nigga spit the way I spit it? 

Think about it, I'll wait a minute 

I had to give you time to think of a name 'cause it might take a minute 

When I dropped Reject 2, I made a statement with it 

Niggas talk tough, I prop up, to see what's shaking with it 

Let the Beretta knock the letters of your Lakers fitted 

Toss bullets, I'm Troy Aikman with it when he played with Emmitt 

Admit it, I'm one of the greatest with it 

I raise the bar, set the razor in your face with scar 

Break in your place and all that money in your safe is ours 

You rap niggas ain't safe at all 

My youngest taking niggas chains at the awards and then we skatin' off 

Empty the sticks like 50 shots is sprayin' off 

Kill 'em, double back, hit 'em again, we makin' sure 

Uh 

 

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[Chorus: Lloyd Banks] 

Uh 

You know where the fuck we from 

Niggas sound like a murder one 

It's the real niggas, yeah 

Blood, sweat, tears and bullet flares 

 

[Verse 2: Lloyd Banks] 

Figured I hit the top with those I seen the bottom with went wrong 

They switch, my circle so small I'm standing out of it 

Episodes of a giant, hand me my monument 

Still off the table, bet he won't have a family to count it with 

Fake ass niggas sign your baby a counterfeit 

Limbs knocked off your counterparts 

We known for breakin' mama hearts 

Ran out of patience debatin' die for the fast flip 

Cruisin', collectin' Confederate flags to wipe my ass with 

Had to be killin' shit, I'm hearin' ghosts 

Seein' my folks disappearing, my feelings broke 

Being successful will bring 'em to tears faster 

Keep your threats off the wire, buggin out is my fear factor 

30 rounds for your square rapper 

The hand of God off to vertical rear smack ya 

You shot at me but I never felt a thing, my diamonds freezing 

Hater allergic, Valentino handkerchief for sneezing 

Grippin' with passion, I overdosed twice 

Aced all obstacles, I ain't run from shit but the po-lice 

Hunger balance cold nights 

Life's a gamble but damn I don't throw dice 

I'm ten toes spike, high as my show price 

I bet a semi rise'll clear out all the petty vibes 

Bark like a shepherd, bike like Pennywise 

Them crew beginnings of grim chronic and Henny eyes 

Blue vomit and envy cries for cowards in disguise 

I pull ya card, make 'em look at ya awkward after 

Run around on my gorilla shit, shittin' and toss it at ya 

I was meant to be on in this era to off a master 

Lashing backwards your own whip, followed by stronger laughter 

Look in my eyes and see the struggle of success 

The memories of a hundred real niggas here in the flesh 

From the view off the mountain top, I was mesmerized 

Medicine for maniacs, chain reacts and the ghetto fried 

 

Photos 

 

[Chorus: Lloyd Banks] 

Uh 

You know where the fuck we from 

Niggas sound like a murder one 

It's the real niggas, yeah 

Blood, sweat, tears and bullet flares 

 

[Verse 3: Benny] 

Yo, in my town we got foul habits, 40 cal. packers 

Hustlers plow cash and trap in a wild fashion 

Till agents chase us around backwards 

They know our faces, but to them, we just cases in a file cabinet 

I'm [?] in that brown fabric, just watch I bought the brown sadness 

Blame my childhood for how I'm actin' 

We leave the counter then we brown baggin' 

The dollar amount stackin', I can see them numbers 

Hustlers count backwards 

I'm somewhat comfy in the bar section, not 'cause I'm rich 

'Cause I'm certified, I'm nothing like these crossdressers 

I can't believe where the flow got us 

I kept the whole profit, got a plan with rock like the Globetrotters 

We straighten beef out with 4 dollars 

But I'm still humble from the days we ate the bread with the mold 'round it 

And this a feeling you will never feel, flow impressive still 

And I perform better when the pressure build 

Single mothers readin' hustlers stretchin' mills 

She fed us with the cash for the electric bill 

I'm too eclectic, mouth reckless still 

I hit the hood just to chill, like the old days, catch a feel 

You see, this paper could change a nigga demeanor 

I seen it take dreamers and make 'em into believers 

Had you sippin' Ace pullin' up like Ace in the Beamer 

But first you gotta relate to that ace and the cleaners 

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