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Toca Tuesday Freestyle
par
Conway the Machine
Regreso
Letra
Listen... Griselda... Ayo, your arms too short to box the Flygod Saber, Just Don, Brand Python Balenciaga, and a Sway My brother dropped out of school That n***a' rather get paid I graduated high school Skipped college, went straight to the fed My man said he'd rather do life Than rather be dead 500 a lead Burgundy toast for the feds Chains on, the brick in 36 pieces Mac in the [?] White on white Lambo truck They thought the kid was Jesus I could turn one to two My shooters rocking trench in the summer, too Ya'll n***as' peasants I'm excellence, Pyrex We dressed in measurements Only give a b*t*h d**k and peppermint, ayo Walk like a drug dealer, talk like a drug dealer Dress like a drug dealer, SKS for a f**k n***a' Giuseppe with the gold balls, buckets full of gold bottles Silk Versace Venice sh*t, Medusa heads with the gold goggles Rose-gold Marcielago They wacked Escobar Welcome Home, Chapo Spending blood money up in Birdhoff Betty Halbreich knocking birds off Ingredients, Arm & Hammer mix Pour crystal in the pot, gotta' taste the riche Gettin' million on the corner Fly as f**k, eating [?] pu**y on a foreign I ain't heard one n***a' that's f**king with the boy, yet I'm the Ferrari Scaglietti, you a Corvette Seen my man shot, bleeding on my doorstep Had me run a 22 on me, Tony Dorset Homie, I've forever been raw Better than ya'll, and I'm rapping with a shell in my jaw The doctor said I damaged my nerves, it's Bells Palsy They tried to mug me I just shook the shells off me Told 'em I'm the machine, that's what they call me Half my face paralyzed, f**k it, record me I mean how they gon' ignore me All the b*t*hes applaud me The city should award me Your song need help, I would tell you, call me But I don't do features with n***as' they can't afford me The 2013 sittin' on 4 G Racks in the stash I ain't spending till' I'm 40 I go and get 'em, then I send 'em over Adrian Peterson with a brick, I'm Minnesota My money gettin' long so my women colder Big chain get me wild cat, Villanova We the next guys up Only in GxF I trust A month in the county, It was just my luck I left a burner in the stash, damn, the tech might rust You know the best white Is chef'd right up You whip it just right, it just might fluff We gettin' money lately, Black Chyna just might f**k She see the Lamb sittin' next to the jet-like truck Whoa... You know, Barkley and Kenny Smith my closet, Barkley's and Penny sh*ts Ay why you talkin', you been a b*t*h The AR extended clip tore Ligaments I'm listening, go 'head with your diss track homie And see if I don't leave you with a sh*t bag, homie Shoot the trap up, with this mac on me I'm taking over New York, b*t*h that's Tony Hol' up
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