[Verse: Conway]
Scraping the side of that pot up
Rose gold dweller put your watch up
I got hit on my top when I got shot up
But I know niggas hit in the leg and never got up
Griselda, bitch, we just want the money, fuck the fame
And rap niggas see us and they tuck they chains
It's Conway, you know the fucking name
You said, "it was your year" last year and still nothing changed
No niggas drop like this
I got legends scratching their head
Gotta rearrange their top 5 list, ya' heard?
My little shooter on percocets
I'm only ninety-nine percent, I ain't perfect yet
I fuck the bitches niggas wish, and I ain't buy a bitch a Birkin yet
Pussy so wet I could surf in that
Water ready in the pot, put the work in that
Watch how I lock 'em on the surface when I'm working that
Fifty shot, fold up, I could work with that
Hating motherfucker I see you, where the surgeon at?
I heard the track, then I murdered that
That's why they know my name where they speak German at
I'm from the hood serving crack, I emerged from that
I was out lurking with a Mac, then I merged with Mac
Burning wax in the back of the Maybach with the curtain back
Machine-bitch, this is murder-rap