Artist: Conway the Machine f/ Roc Marciano, Westside Gunn
Album:  Reject 2
Song:   Rex Ryan
Typed by: kirenamloh@msn.com

{Griselda by Fa$hion Rebels}

[Conway the Machine]
Look... the 'gnac in my cup, the Mack is tucked, what
(What's poppin, nigga?) I'm Sticky on "Bacdafucup"
I keep the bliggy since them niggaz clap my truck up
The wax had me gaggin after one puff (Smokin!)
I remember baggin jums up
Now it's a half of one stuffed in the trunk, I stack my funds up
Call my savage and have his gun bust
Then they find you wrapped in plastic in a dump truck (hahaha!)
Fuck~! Only built the adora
I pull up with a bitch, they thought it was Rita Ora (naaaaaaah!)
My lil' head bussa keep his tool ringin off
Got two bodies this summer, he said he need some more
Highest grade marijuana, directly from the farmer
My enemies is all goners, guess it was karma (HAHAHA!)
Charmer, four keys in your baby mom's Elantra
Big-ass gun like something out of Contra (B-R-R-RUP)
Don't make me spray a nigga!
Bodies drop if I okay it, nigga (Green light)
You know how I play it, nigga, Red October Ye a nigga
Loud movin slow, I had to yay it, nigga!
(Woo!) Still ill when I write it
When they don't name me Top 5, I feel slighted
Niggaz be talkin but when I'm around they real quiet
You can pray to Jesus all you want, you still dyin motherfucker!

[Westside Gunn]
Aiyyo, this the second coming of Christ
Herv like a flight, check ya Mac on sight (B-R-R-R)
All red Geiger's on, stomp you to death
Yeah you got designers but you rockin it left
Need a new plug, price is gettin outrageous
Shot the 30 off, my nigga wasn't even aimin (DOOT DOOT DOOT DOOT!)
Pink lemonade Porsche Cayman
Lil' more jealous lookalike a nigga paintin
Patience a virtue, my youngins'll merk you
Eight go in the barrel, made blaze in the shirt too
Shotgun like Peyton, the FLYGOD but the all-red Yeezy boots Satan
Izod gloves all weigh-in
Camera's on {?} like Paul Wall
Life's so great, they say a nigga sold his soul
Praying Rex get us a Super Bowl
Bust out the gate, the wrist froze from flippin Os'

[Roc Marciano]
Yo, you know the rules, let the jewels go smooth
They never shoulda sold you dudes Pro Tools (never)
These old dudes let the hoes choose
Nigga, your shoes is overused
I hear the fat lady singin, that bitch can hold a tune
As Ben said, I'm God in the flesh, I had to show and prove
(Show and prove, god) My shoes is literally from Italy (Bags!)
Lethal on the caine, thought it was muscular dystrophy (ow!)
100 shots to ya Hilfiger look like a fricassee
Who you think, you Mr. T? Mitch Green?
Or the new Richard Roundtree? (Please)
You found in Queens with your shit twisted like it was ground beef
A few niggaz in town grieved (A couple niggaz)
Very agate paint on an i8 (Shit change colors)
Obviously, you see that I ate (We raw, nigga)
Don't think I'm like these other rap niggaz cause I ain't
We pyrate (yep), you got pie in your face (Fuckboy!)
Denim is supply for the fly weight
You can't buy taste, we lookin at your sideways