Yeah (back off man, I'm a scientist)
Yeah I see you niggas tryna take the formula and make it cornier
I'm onto you (see what y'all niggas doin')
Don't make me call shorty up
He pick his .40 up (put that in, homie)
Shootin' your corner up
Send you for a ride with the coroner (boom boom boom boom)
Cake pilin', spent the last two days countin' (hah)
Invested in the real estate and made safe houses (yeah)
Same block where I had a K, wildin', I made thousands
I could take my bricks and make a yay mountain (hah)
Open my garage door and pull a Wraith out it (you see me, bitch)
Puerto Rican bitches love me like I'm J Balvin
Versace drawers, nah, bitch, these ain't Calvins (uh uh)
Militant mind, I'm the modern day Malcolm
I'm the nigga that they doubted
I created my own lane on these niggas
Now my lane crowded (get out my lane)
And I ain't even drop a album
But the flow polished like the nigga on his eighth album (machine, bitch, hah)
On Dope Street, I used to move an O a day
You can't take my chains, boy, my jewels don't go away (hah)
You can't name a dude that flow today that's f*ckin' with me
Just think, Everybody Is F.O.O.D. was a throwaway (that was light)
Everything I touch, this shit is classic
Call the plug, get the package, then get in traffic (ah)
Already sold half it before I ripped the plastic (talk to 'em)
Neck lookin' like I just went triple platinum
We with the action, your favorite rapper, I will smack him
Then have his head spinning backwards
Then spin a Backwoods
Shootin' like Dame DOLLA, I'm hittin' baskets
I'm in the booth spittin' gases, get your matches, nigga
And you suckers knowin' what's up (yeah)
You get a shitbag when I'm dumpin' low with the pump (boom boom boom boom)
Who the hardest in the streets?
Motherf*cker, you know it's us
I ain't bring New York back, I put Buffalo in the front
Motherf*cker (brr)
Yeah, nigga
Conway the Machine - Hawks Lyrics
Conway the Machine - Hawks Lyrics
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Yeah (back off man, I'm a scientist)
Yeah I see you niggas tryna take the formula and make it cornier
I'm onto you (see what y'all niggas doin')
Don't make me call shorty up
He pick his .40 up (put that in, homie)
Shootin' your corner up
Send you for a ride with the coroner (boom boom boom boom)
Cake pilin', spent the last two days countin' (hah)
Invested in the real estate and made safe houses (yeah)
Same block where I had a K, wildin', I made thousands
I could take my bricks and make a yay mountain (hah)
Open my garage door and pull a Wraith out it (you see me, bitch)
Puerto Rican bitches love me like I'm J Balvin
Versace drawers, nah, bitch, these ain't Calvins (uh uh)
Militant mind, I'm the modern day Malcolm
I'm the nigga that they doubted
I created my own lane on these niggas
Now my lane crowded (get out my lane)
And I ain't even drop a album
But the flow polished like the nigga on his eighth album (machine, bitch, hah)
On Dope Street, I used to move an O a day
You can't take my chains, boy, my jewels don't go away (hah)
You can't name a dude that flow today that's f*ckin' with me
Just think, Everybody Is F.O.O.D. was a throwaway (that was light)
Everything I touch, this shit is classic
Call the plug, get the package, then get in traffic (ah)
Already sold half it before I ripped the plastic (talk to 'em)
Neck lookin' like I just went triple platinum
We with the action, your favorite rapper, I will smack him
Then have his head spinning backwards
Then spin a Backwoods
Shootin' like Dame DOLLA, I'm hittin' baskets
I'm in the booth spittin' gases, get your matches, nigga
And you suckers knowin' what's up (yeah)
You get a shitbag when I'm dumpin' low with the pump (boom boom boom boom)
Who the hardest in the streets?
Motherf*cker, you know it's us
I ain't bring New York back, I put Buffalo in the front
Motherf*cker (brr)
Yeah, nigga
Yeah I see you niggas tryna take the formula and make it cornier
I'm onto you (see what y'all niggas doin')
Don't make me call shorty up
He pick his .40 up (put that in, homie)
Shootin' your corner up
Send you for a ride with the coroner (boom boom boom boom)
Cake pilin', spent the last two days countin' (hah)
Invested in the real estate and made safe houses (yeah)
Same block where I had a K, wildin', I made thousands
I could take my bricks and make a yay mountain (hah)
Open my garage door and pull a Wraith out it (you see me, bitch)
Puerto Rican bitches love me like I'm J Balvin
Versace drawers, nah, bitch, these ain't Calvins (uh uh)
Militant mind, I'm the modern day Malcolm
I'm the nigga that they doubted
I created my own lane on these niggas
Now my lane crowded (get out my lane)
And I ain't even drop a album
But the flow polished like the nigga on his eighth album (machine, bitch, hah)
On Dope Street, I used to move an O a day
You can't take my chains, boy, my jewels don't go away (hah)
You can't name a dude that flow today that's f*ckin' with me
Just think, Everybody Is F.O.O.D. was a throwaway (that was light)
Everything I touch, this shit is classic
Call the plug, get the package, then get in traffic (ah)
Already sold half it before I ripped the plastic (talk to 'em)
Neck lookin' like I just went triple platinum
We with the action, your favorite rapper, I will smack him
Then have his head spinning backwards
Then spin a Backwoods
Shootin' like Dame DOLLA, I'm hittin' baskets
I'm in the booth spittin' gases, get your matches, nigga
And you suckers knowin' what's up (yeah)
You get a shitbag when I'm dumpin' low with the pump (boom boom boom boom)
Who the hardest in the streets?
Motherf*cker, you know it's us
I ain't bring New York back, I put Buffalo in the front
Motherf*cker (brr)
Yeah, nigga
Writer: Demond Price
Copyright: Lyrics © Reservoir Media Management, Inc.
Copyright: Lyrics © Reservoir Media Management, Inc.