Latex Gloves (Big Ghost Version)

Lyrics

[Intro: Conway the Machine] (Trust) Trust [Verse 1: Conway the Machine] Look Wrapped in chinchilla to the ankle bone (You know the fly shit) I'm that nigga, now I'm just gon' make it known (I'm that nigga) My dog caught a body bustin' Draco chrome (Huh?) They gave him life behind them prison gates, he can't go home I get the yayo gone, break a whole one down and make a zone (No cap) 'Cause in these streets, I'm a motherfuckin' staple on He say he the king? Well, Machine come to take his throne Take over the game like I'm Jordan when hе played Malone (Talk to 'em) Spray thе MAC-10s out a black Benz (Brr-r-r) He dropped his Cartis runnin' from it, got a cracked lens (Ahahaha) Mama gone for days, been on a crack binge (No cap) Walked to granny house, she got a packed fridge (Granny) Been about that action since the older days (Huh?) Niggas puttin' bodies on the throwaways (Boom, boom, boom, boom, boom, boom, boom) Latex gloves on when we loadin' K's (Brrt) Ha, yeah [Verse 2: Lloyd Banks] You should know what time we on Expectations that's highly wrong Kicked a hole in the game before Multiple feuds by time he gone Gotta be strong when you're poppin', the paparazzi forms Sliders singin' in your local precinct like Omarion Came a ways to get here and make it to a brocky arm Careful, had to stash the rocket by the akhi jawn Hermes on my way to the tomb, Versace-borne You would think I'm repeatin' shit, I got several copies for 'em Hatin' ain't gon' stop me, probably wish me body harm Hand off to my dumb-out, get his kamikaze on There'll always be forks in the road, this Maserati's for 'em Y'all rap careers ain't workin' out, a bunch of sloppy songs Quiet storms and beautiful murders for oxymoron We in the town, there's vehicles houndin' and lobby swarms They don't play, that's why we armed Every day, a body's drawn Duck the criminal, the one your baby mom eyes be on [Verse 3: 38 Spesh] I have to move these blocks, meet me at the beauty shop The one that's owned by my cutie-wop that got the booty shots I ain't packin' a toolie Glock, absolutely not Stash box case I get stopped by traffic-duty cops My last interaction, they was askin' who we shot Gave 'em no reaction, so they acted truly shocked This ain't a movie, akh, I stack fruity rocks There's diamonds and emeralds and rubies in my jewelry box The cars that we got show y'all all who we not Fifteen hundred at the bar in Louis shots Walkin' 'round your bitch crib in my drawers and Louis socks Got me confused, dog, y'all thought who'd be stopped? From upstate NY, a moody block Play the gangster role and I'll make your movie stop All hoes is birds, I'm where the bougie flock I'll never let these groupie thots do me like Rudy pops, nigga [Outro] (Trust)