Letra de ' Kim Xpress (feat. Larry June) ' de Conway The Machine

Conductor
Yeah
Conductor
Machine back, y'know
Light up
At this point I'm just unfuckwithable, nigga
Yeah

Four chicken wings, lobster fried rice, still on that hood shit
Four homicides in the same night, we on that bullshit
I'm Trick Daddy with the pots, whippin' that girl, she such a good bitch
18-wheelers bringin' the za, we gettin' hood rich

Blew 50 at the Louis V store out in Paris, rollin' up a hundred crowns at the Louvre, bitch I'm arrogant
You know papi on the 10th street had the heroin, on the megabus takin' bricks down to Maryland
On the megabus takin' bricks down to Maryland
Your dog locked, you keep him outside and take care of him
I'm pullin' up, German engineering, bitches stare at 'em
The Benz white, my shooter like Glen Rice
Champion piece, a pesto margarita thin slice
Big pipe in this 3x Pelle Pelle
I hate all of you rappers, I'm Melle Mel
The flow is Kane vs. Undertaker, this Hell in a Cell
Really from the trenches, give a fuck 'bout no record sales
Well, the fit fresh I just need a photo
Griselda Records, I should be the logo
Bitch text me say she 'bout to leave Komodo
R&B star, shit it probably was Coco

Four chicken wings, lobster fried rice, still on that hood shit
Four homicides in the same night, we on that bullshit
I'm Trick Daddy with the pots, whippin' that girl, she such a good bitch
18-wheelers bringin' the za, we gettin' hood rich

I done seen niggas fall a lot, seen niggas ball a lot
Two million tucked in my parking spot
Triple that on real estate, my couch cost 88
I call that sittin' on 80k, I'm heavyweight
Tech on me like IT, quick like Ali
Bruce Lee Roy, choppin' down keys
Prepare for the bullshit, I'm [?] sippin' on a chai tea
Spillin' weed crumbs on my white tee
Italian wood floors in my crib, I'm not a ball player
If you not talkin' big numbers I'ma call you later
Glidin' in the 992 lookin' like Terminator
Me and money correlated, I'm manifesting bigger things
Been seein' RICOs, block got swept clean
Copped the Benz from Nino's, tucked it on 23's
I was 'bout 19, baby boy on the way
Weighin' up 50 Ps, prayin' that I make it safe
Prayin' that these niggas

Prayin' that they won't tell
Knowin' that these niggas fake
Still on that hood shit
Candy house not y'alls, on my way to serve a J
What's happenin'
Conway
Comin' live from 100th Point, California, nigga
All the way to Buffalo
TFM, Griselda
Condutor, we have a problem!