DJ Clue
Some Free
[Verse]
(Talk to 'em)
Look, a G call and the savages came
With automatics to aim tryin' to splatter your brain
Clappin' your frame, bullets shatterin' the glass of your Range
Catch you backstage at your show, and we yappin' your chain
I fishtail the Lamb' drove that in the rain
Uh, fishscale the yams when the packages came
Uhh, your bitch can tell that I'm stackin' my change
I was in the Street Fam sellin' Fabolous 'caine
Not rappin' but these n***as not rather the same
I been actually tryin' to reframe from smackin' a lame
When you hear me on the track you hear the passion and pain
You can tell the way I craft it that I mastered the game
This kind of shit you ain't built for, get back in your lane
N***as get stabbed in the face for attackin' my name
N***a, breakin' news shit, another rapper is slain
Told my goon after the kill bring back your remains, my n***a
Some n***as Bloods, and some n***as is Crips
Some n***as official, but most of you n***as bitch
I ain't here to make friends, you n***as can eat a dick
My youngin blood thirsty, he eager to squeeze a clip
You sneak a diss, hope we don't peep it 'cause we a flip
Let the heater lift you off of feet and we leave you stiff
See me in Fifth with a Rican bitch and she is thick
Keep a razor in her bag, she givin' your cheek a kiss
Cubans weighin' at least a brick
Plug like Tony, he bust open a ki to sniff
Every other day my trigger finger itch
And that's the same hand I write with, Machine is sick
I'll bust down a jubilee band
Who let you n***as in the studio? You should be banned
I can have you whack for, like, maybe two or three bands
I'ma get us rich, won't no n***a ruin these plans
La Máquina
[Outro: Conway the Machine + Sample]
Yo, you know what's up, n***a
Machine, bitch
("La Máquina!")