Lyrics Conway The Machine – Brains On The Basquiat

Westside Gunn:
Slow down, West, you killin’ ’em
Same nigga used to rock Fed tans and Timberlands
Same nigga used to have dope that made ’em lean

Conway:
Respected by brick-movers and shell-bussas
Nicer than everbody on the last three XXL covers
Mix the champagne with the dark
My brain way smart
Balmains, the suede Fieg Clarks

Westside Gunn:
Kel-Tec hangin’ out the Corvette, shot his whole block
Black Boost match the MAC-11 by the dope spot
CDG hearts on the flip-flops, while I play the yacht, Akh

Conway:
Niggas let they gun bust on my block
Started witta half, from a half to a ounce
To a big, to a 9, to a split in a drought, nigga
My cooker whip that shit till his wrist sore
I’m lookin’ like a brick in the Kith store

Westside Gunn:
Money got me changin’, I was on the block slangin’
Prps, cherry red Buscemis lock swangin’
No skimask, we held shit up, you know what up
The Audi cost a buck, doin’ a buck
Hunting shells ‘a rip his guts

Conway:
Fuck nigga, we aim and bang toast
I snuffed ya favorite rapper, his little angel chains broke

Westside Gunn:
Ayo, all ya niggas talkin’ like you gettin’ money
But y’all niggas’ all broke yo
Fuck you, fuck you, and fuck you
I put the barrel in ya throat, yo
Fuck niggas can’ tell me shit, I made a quater off ‘a dope, nigga
Sneak diss and I’ll send a few shooters at ya muthafuckin’ show, nigga

Conway:
Beleedat, nigga
Click, clack, boom, SE Gang, nigga
Fuck outta here, nigga
Hall and Nash, nigga