Conway The Machine Carti Lyrics
Carti by Conway The Machine
[Intro]
Uhh, let's go outside and play
I wanna go outside and play
I wanna go and play in the streets, nigga, haha
[Verse]
Uhh, spit it for the street, Griselda, we be the voices
Niggas rob and sell dope, they ain't have too many choices
Rock a Rollie on my left wrist, comfortable in a Royce
Pull up to the sea bar order a hundred oysters
My name in the class with the Eminems and the Royces
That's why I don't respond to you rap niggas, it's pointless
I keep my hammer close, I'm blicking it if I point it
Put tools in your mouth like a dentist, make your appointment
Go 'head take a crack at me like I ain't got the strap with me
Grimiest of all time, and there ain't no coming after me
My young boys'll whack for me
But I'll still pop a nigga, pull up on (?), Fredo put this in the stash for me
Catch me in New York, riding through, 20 stacks on me
Feeling real comfy, Lord Flea he gon' spaz for me
Call my niggas Fast Life I know he got the gas for me
Paris OG, he said he 'bout to bring a half for me
Not too many niggas in the game is a match for me
Face paralyzed, still nobody out rapping me
Grimiest of all, nah, I'm the illest actually
Keep the MAC with me in case these niggas try jacking me
It started as a robbery, but lead to a homi
The lead in the shottie, knocked his head from his body
I jumped back in my shit and sped in the Masi'
Let you forever sleep, that's a dead nigga hobby
I should have my own XXL cover, the spooky issue
I'm way too official, fuck a drum, now I spit cruiser missiles
Knock a limb off your body like a bazooka hit you
We nothing alike if you don't shoot your pistol
Them fuck niggas is goofy with you
I don't trust a soul, it be your own homies that plot to move against you
Set you up, wet you up, I can't let 'em catch me bruh
That's why I keep the heckler tucked
The hardest out is definitely us
Gx, uh, FR, AK's, the TEC's and stuff
The MAC's and all the extra stuff, you niggas get your vestes up
Get above your neck hit up, Griselda 'til the death of us
30 shots'll mess you up, mortician dress you up, ahhh
Uhh, let's go outside and play
I wanna go outside and play
I wanna go and play in the streets, nigga, haha
[Verse]
Uhh, spit it for the street, Griselda, we be the voices
Niggas rob and sell dope, they ain't have too many choices
Rock a Rollie on my left wrist, comfortable in a Royce
Pull up to the sea bar order a hundred oysters
My name in the class with the Eminems and the Royces
That's why I don't respond to you rap niggas, it's pointless
I keep my hammer close, I'm blicking it if I point it
Put tools in your mouth like a dentist, make your appointment
Go 'head take a crack at me like I ain't got the strap with me
Grimiest of all time, and there ain't no coming after me
My young boys'll whack for me
But I'll still pop a nigga, pull up on (?), Fredo put this in the stash for me
Catch me in New York, riding through, 20 stacks on me
Feeling real comfy, Lord Flea he gon' spaz for me
Call my niggas Fast Life I know he got the gas for me
Paris OG, he said he 'bout to bring a half for me
Not too many niggas in the game is a match for me
Face paralyzed, still nobody out rapping me
Grimiest of all, nah, I'm the illest actually
Keep the MAC with me in case these niggas try jacking me
It started as a robbery, but lead to a homi
The lead in the shottie, knocked his head from his body
I jumped back in my shit and sped in the Masi'
Let you forever sleep, that's a dead nigga hobby
I should have my own XXL cover, the spooky issue
I'm way too official, fuck a drum, now I spit cruiser missiles
Knock a limb off your body like a bazooka hit you
We nothing alike if you don't shoot your pistol
Them fuck niggas is goofy with you
I don't trust a soul, it be your own homies that plot to move against you
Set you up, wet you up, I can't let 'em catch me bruh
That's why I keep the heckler tucked
The hardest out is definitely us
Gx, uh, FR, AK's, the TEC's and stuff
The MAC's and all the extra stuff, you niggas get your vestes up
Get above your neck hit up, Griselda 'til the death of us
30 shots'll mess you up, mortician dress you up, ahhh