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War Paint
by
Conway the Machine
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Ah The Butcher comin', n***a You know, n***as be talkin' like this sh*t overnight I spent 'bout two thousand nights in the cells So I'm like, which night y'all n***as talkin' about? Griselda Uh Hit-Boy Congratulate me now, all this paper gon' change me how? Fly n***a, all these diamond chains just weigh me down A broke n***a not my lady's style True grit worth to f**k me, count up and try this Mercedes 'round No emotions, I mastered pain with what we smokin' Raw made hustlers on my block stars like Billy Ocean Dope money, if the alphabet boys knew what we grossin' I'd have a bedroom in Folsom, but I'm off shorе, toastin' Besides rap, we got you rеspectin' the business I left the dope game with stripes, y'all left with opinions We washed the money clean, the only thing left is forgiveness But how could I? Can't sh*t fix the death of a sibling Loadin' up my straps again, them folks done plugged the wall against my back again War paint on me like them Africans They wanna know my net worth, they guessin' is I'm stackin' it Add a few more zeroes or those numbers is inaccurate Griselda, n***a
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