TH3RD F

[Verse 1: Conway the Machine]

Whippin' yay at the fiend house (Whip up)

Tuck the yopper in the fiend couch (I got it)

'07, light Dutches, nigga (Huh?)

My gun game, you can't fuck with, nigga ('Kay)

Break both shins, put you on crutches, nigga (Hahahaha!)

Po-po at the door, you better flush it, nigga (Hah!)

He sold nineteen, only a bird left

[Chorus: Conway the Machine]

D's kicked his door and found it, that's his third F (That nigga down nineteen joints, mad joints)

D's kicked his door and found it, that's his third F (That's crazy)

D's kicked his door and found it, hold up

[Verse 2: Conway the Machine]

Look, since 15 been a TEC shooter (Uh-huh)

Did a stretch, came home big as Lex Luger

Grilled lobster with the conch fritters (We eatin')

Griselda, bitch, who can fuck with us? (Hah!)

I'm from the city, niggas get smoked for a half a ki'

Versace specs, silk shirt on, bitch, I'm Master P (Hahahaha!)

Master kush, I done smoked about a half-a-P (I'm smokin'!)

'Bout to lock the game up and bury the master key (Uh-huh)

Had the foreign parked at my crime spot ('Kay)

Stick on the back seat if the drum pop (What's good?)

Forty-dollar ace, lyin' around block

I know I ain't shit, I even sold my mom rocks (Hahahaha!)

Free the gangstas in Clinton Max and Comstock (Free my niggas! hah, hah, hah)

Attica and Wyoming, Albion, the guys know me

Might go see my jeweler buy five Rollies

Just to remind myself, it's my time, homie (Talk to 'em, nigga)

Bodies on the blicky, hit his body with this .50

Shot shotty 'til it flip him

Catch a body, then I'm probably in the Masi' doin' sixty

In Atlanta smokin' sour, ain't nobody fuckin' with me

I'm a legend in the flesh (Uh-huh), respect me like your father (Yeah)

Fuck them pussy niggas, I will hit 'em with the carbon (Brrt)

Put you on the front of a T-shirt, we murk whoever, nigga (Who want it, nigga? Hehehehe)

[Interlude: Raekwon]

Yeah, man, little niggas better be careful, man

Them little niggas out there man, playin', man

Playin' them big droles, nigga

Be careful, man, for real, man

It's Griselda life, nigga, Wu-Tang, nigga

That's right, for real

Hold a four gradually, nigga

Keep nothin' but UZIs

With motherfuckin' big potato skin on the top of it, nigga

You know what I'm sayin'?

This is real life, nigga

Don't get caught up, nigga

This is not a game, nigga, this is not a game

We will take your sneakers

Take all that bread and everything, nigga

For real, man, word up, man, word to mother, man

You know the voice, nigga

You know who it is, man, call your boss in

[Verse 3: Raekwon]

Egg shell Ss, Guess jeans on, I blow finesseness

Caught me in Texas with Nexus cards and stolen Lexuses

Me and my guest list of gun holders who blow pedestrians

Half a boat load of coke inside my jets and shit

Off like a Mexican, my best friend dipped

We run together, fuck all your next man shit

Fuck your captain, he overreacted, I'll slowly blow your back in

Catch you in traffic, the nozzle spit sporadic

We're one's fanatic, I runs the cabinet, that gun's Ben Affleck

I drag flips, get caught in the cross like Catholics

I hold a black slips, slap tricks, I mack slick

You dap dicks, clowns get found naked in black whips

And sign 'em off, he wasn't mine, he wasn't slime in Rolf's

Then this rich niggas' Drink Champs, can't buy me off

Niggas is homos, and bozos, and logos ridin' Volvos

Your clothes on, your hoes is sold

You lost yo' soul

[Instrumental Outro]