Lyrics Conway The Machine – 3 Bodies

Yeah, Conway, bitch
Machine, bitch
Griselda, bitch, Statik Selektah
You know what’s up nigga

Look, one call, papi sendin’ off load
Trey pound with the long nose, send you niggas to the crossroads
I used to whip the raw upon my aunt stove
Remember I don’t know how to whip it, I lost O’s
Them bodies in the hood, my niggas caught those
I had to cut my nigga off, I heard my dog told, whoa
She seen the Rollie and your broad choose
I back this MAC out, you niggas all froze (they pussy)
I’m just paintin’ pictures, niggas ain’t as vivid
Kept it gangsta, now they wanna jump in my lane and switch it
Aim the stainless Smith and Wesson at your cranium and lift it
I’m just tryin’ to explain to you I’m different
Uhh, I was raised a little different
Catch me on
?
droppin’ Franklins on
?
shit
I got a box and I’ma off it in a week
Lately it’s been kind of hard for me to sleep, ’cause it’s

There’s money on my mind and it’s bodies on my pistol
Youngin on parole, he still ridin’ with his blick though
I just get a word, he pull up and let his clip go
Griselda in this bitch, and you know how this shit go
Youngin got bodies on his gun, nigga

Look, you pussy niggas keep on playin’
Til I pull up with them 50 shots and keep on sprayin’
I’m the illest with the shit, that’s what they keep on sayin’
Plug keep sendin’ that box, then I’ma keep on weighin’
I’ma keep on cookin’, I’ma keep on whippin’
You niggas still catchin’ cases, niggas keep on snitchin’
Damn, you niggas got robbed again, you niggas keep on bitchin’
Need another body, my trigger finger keep on itchin’
Look, Griselda, nigga, we more different
Machine, bitch, he more gifted, you can’t fuck with me or mystic
Westside Gunn, I green light, they squeeze off blickers
Gotta re more like 3 more fishes
I’ve been independent but, homie I’m conductin’ Lyor business
Listen close, shout out my B-more niggas, nigga
(Y’all niggas better enjoy this shit, nigga
More Steroids, nigga… haha)

There’s money on my mind and it’s bodies on my pistol
Youngin on parole, he still ridin’ with his blick though
I just get a word, he pull up and let his clip go
Griselda in this bitch, and you know how this shit go
Youngin got bodies on his gun, nigga
And he lookin’ for some more
Yeah, 3 bodies on his gun, nigga
And he ’bout to make it four, yeah, yeah yeah