Time

Album cover art for "Time" by Freeway & Conway the Machine

Freeway & Conway the Machine - Rap, Hip-Hop

Time

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Duration: 3:10

Lyrics

[Verse 1: Freeway] Uh We from the ghetto, we keep metal, we keep Prada whiffers You can stuff at least a half a brick inside a woofer If [?] tote the tool, I might be riding with her I was charged in middle school, they said the mama's cooking I was booked, and now my neck look like a hockey rink My pockets used to leak, and now I got chips like Cliff Huxtable Made my money from the block, the profit used to stink Now when I hit up the bank, they serve me drinks, make sure I'm comfortable First bit of that [?], switched up thе flow this many times [?] he got a diamond in [?] First hustler that evеr switched up the [?] Moved in on the trust, now we live here Really earned my spot, this ain't no coincidence Way before the Rock, I was bending in expensive shit I'll cop out with [?] spit the clip You ain't gotta short Mobb Deep to prove you infamous It's Free and Jake, we need the feeling back, we here to grant your wish [Verse 2: Conway the Machine] You know the homies just be waiting to die That you one of the guys clap, you pull up and throw 5 at you The bullets big as fuck and D batteries fly at you [?] that drive passed you [?] with pineapple Got Montega all on my hoodie like pineapple And when they building my statue, from the way I throw lines at you Highly impactful, like [?] No marketing plan, market the brand I step in a design capsule Mentally my mind, leave scientists mind baffled Lyrically inclined, I existed through time travel My physical design, elements that are not natural Free said "Machine, let's cook", went up, it was my absolute pleasure You niggas know Con be contacting whenever Niggas need a drum, niggas know the street I'm from My heater rung, niggas knowing that I'll clap you wherever Doc patched you together I ain't going nowhere, nigga, I'm back forever Still in the hood, I got my strapped in the leather For the pressure, know I'm ready for combat whenever I'm selling my pack, it do not matter the weather Look, my rhyme book is considered a national treasure They still try to slight me, do not matter my effort Just 'cause he your favorite rapper, do not mean that he better The Machine, bitch

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Credits

Writers
  • Jake One
  • Freeway
  • Conway the Machine