Carti

Album cover art for "Carti" by Conway the Machine

Conway the Machine - Rap, USA

Carti

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Lyrics

[Intro] Uh, let's go outside and play I wanna go outside and play I wanna go and play in the street, nigga, haha [Verse] Uh, 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 and take a crack at me like I ain't got the strap with me Grimiest of all time, and ain't no coming after me My young boys'll whack for me But I'll still pop a nigga, pull up on May, Fredo put this in the stash for me Catch me in New York, riding through, 20 racks on me Feeling real comfy, Lord Flee 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 TECs and stuff The MACs 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

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Credits

Writers
  • Conway the Machine