Olathe

Album cover art for "Olathe" by T.F & Roc Marciano & Conway the Machine

T.F & Roc Marciano & Conway the Machine - Rap

Olathe

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Duration: 4:53

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Lyrics

[Verse 1: T.F] Garlic butter on the crab legs got 'em sentimental Heavy tinted windows doin' pirouettes with a demon in it Had an oriental, had to get her on the instrumental She had to hit the track, first trap ain't no looking back Masked up like I'm cooking meth, I'm like Iron Man back in '96 And when it comes to beef I'm with it every season, I'm the Iron Chef I was 15, I seen a marble floor inside a Pyrex Whatchu know about a couple Snapple bottles for the sherm sticks? Drive-bys out of Thunderbirds, did it acapellas, niggas know the word Niggas know the vibe, you niggas nerds, you don't know the curb Got a bad bitch and she play the 'burbs And she be dipped out, had to ask if she be selling gurb, word to 2 Eleven MAC-11 match the black Amiris, spiral bullets made him backpedal Turned his Cadillac into roadkill, cause his trunk had a couple racks in it LordMobb we the front runners, made men, mad bitches This for the niggas hatin', ya'll niggas pussy: mad bitches Nine milly made her spine tingle, fine china bring the lines with it Quarter piece I let the dimes hit it, now they layin' up, like they Rod Strickland Ain't no business like mob business, waking up to a cup of Folgers and brand new set of side bitches I'ma bounce back and I'ma dive in it Niggas never pictured livin' through it, fast forward now we gettin' to it Yeah the lick Jewish, made the wrist Cuban, and that bitch hitting like it's Ray Lewis We in the Hidden Hills, probably crushing pills, bustin' all night watching SNL With the happy ending like fairy tales, Chinese with the rusty shells Test lot, we finna break 'em in, if it don't bust his head, I bet I break his leg Made the breaking news, bandana like Omega Red Back to pirouettes, wrist shinin' like mirror tint 50 pointers like pyramids, airheads I can care less You niggas pressure cases, all airbags I was airin' shit and I ain't wear a mask Pulled up with a pair of bags, raw cass, sacs 5th ave Hair-trigger on a colt pony, gave a nigga wrist whiplash [Verse 2: Conway the Machine] Started out gettin' double-ups, had to run it up, got my money up, nigga, hard times never troubled us (Huh?) Got my bitch Dior bubbled up, got her titties done, fixed her stomach up (Woo) Bitch talking 'bout she love me, (Yeah) when I know the difference 'tween love and lust (Ha) You can miss me with that loyalty shit, nigga I'm the only one I trust (Me) Gave these niggas racks, fronted niggas packs, somehow they still fuck it up (Broke) It's a cold world, better bundle up, pussy niggas better huddle up (Woo) My shooter followin' my new foreign, and he do the scorin', that's Bubba Chuck (Brrr) When I heard the beat I spit pain on it, when I'm brainstormin', nigga thunderstruck Like rain pourin', can't convince us that y'all ain't informants (Ah) Boogers in the tennis chains enormous, (Ah) VVS's and they 80 pointers (Woo) Fuck them niggas that be hatin' on us, cause they ain't important I don't want her if she ain't imported Whippin' up the cocaine batter, you could get a Benz (Whip up) 14, seen a nigga brain splattered and I didn't cringe (Ah) Think about all the little dirt that we did at [?] When we used to beat the brakes off of niggas, Bing Bong just like my nigga Nems (C'mere) Lil bitch mad at me, asked did I hit her friend? Told her no even though I did, and I lowkey plan to hit again (Hahaha) Gotta rewind my shit, listen closely to the bars for the hidden gems Hidden Hills with a trophy, I'm just seein' life through a different lens I'm a menace to society, bitch them extendo clips is firing (Brrr) That's what a nigga get for tryin' me, just look at the rap game now You see what I facilitated quietly? (Ha) These niggas listenin' to my tapes They say "that nigga 'Way inspired me", (Woo) I'm just that nigga, bitch, entirely (Woo) Gone [Verse 3: Roc Marciano] Bet the 5th dim ya lights when I hit the kill switch Mwah, that's a kiss goodnight, nigga been a lick (Goodnight) One through the pillow, in the middle of his head, left his whole shit split (Bah) Woke the old heads up, had the whole city lit (Woo) Might let him hold 50 if your little jewelry on, go and give me that I ain't into Mike Amiri's, can't fit the semi in them little skinny pants (Fuck this shit) Still send a bitch word to Kenny Red Fuck the Henny, I was sippin' red, in the 6 like a stick of Big Red Talkin' like y'all good, that's a false bill of goods (Cap) I leave you on the floor spillin' blood, throw 'em in the woods (Facts) Pause, dawg, I'ma get a wood (Get a bone) Actin' all boss-hog till a nigga get cooked No pork, fuck a pig foot, treat the Porsche like I'm drivin' big foot When it's on, niggas get shook, it was sorta like they spotted Bigfoot (Look) You ain't gotta go to school to get booked I just told my shooter sit put I just know if it's about a bitch, it's a witch hunt Man a chick could get it, it don't matter which one 6 million ways to get splattered, pick one (Pick one, nigga) I don't care how it gotta happen, get it done (Get it done) Hit you with a bag, lil' nigga live it up, Marc

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Credits

Writers
  • T.F
  • Conway the Machine
  • Roc Marciano