Look, my shooter going for his eighth body Half a cake on the table, clean your plate buddy Keep a K by me, back seat of the grey Mazi Shot in my head and lived, I'm the nigga you can't body My dawg went upstate for a robbery They gave him 15, been down 4 He'll be home in another 8 probably Nigga we had beef with Was in the same jail thinking he safe probably Left the meat hanging off his face sloppy Yeah, a yam of white go for a handsome price Whip them grams 'til night Turn on that cold water, hand me ice Dip my hands in ice, bitches see how my wrist is dancing, yikes! Them racks I ran I stack my bands up tight since Chandler Heights Snatched the phantom white Your bitch said I'm that nigga, damn you right My safe look like I pulled off the Lufthansa Heist Ratchet, blam, goodnight I'm The Machine bitch, don't hand me mics God flow, I slap one of these rappers with the hands of Christ On Grammy night, look, don't talk to me 'bout how you trapping either You can't afford it or I don't fuck with you, so don't ask for features I'm back in Neimans spending racks on sneakers Copped the Balenciagas rocking Raf Adidas Dawg was selling dog food, I thought all he had was reefer This nigga had his hands on boy like a catholic preacher This that animal rough shit I'm with the same shooters that I ran through the cut with Griselda motherfuckers, we don't stand for no fuck shit I'm Sigel in State property, what hand you roll up with? This for them niggas still selling base Married to the streets, smoking wedding cake MAC-11 by the waist, the felons can relate Even Warren G respect the way I Regulate My youngin shooting like he Lillard he don't hesitate And every time we score on the opps we got to celebrate MachineTeksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
