Moselle

[Intro: Conway the Machine]

A landslide, nigga

Huh, this shit is, this shit is a landslide, nigga

[Verse 1: Conway the Machine]

Uh, this the theme music for the pie stretchers (Whip up)

I whipped five, I got five extras (Hah)

Three Everybody is F.O.O.D. tapes, a trifecta (Cap)

Show these niggas in the game how to apply pressure (Rock shit up, nigga)

All my bitches got a bag and they drive Tesla (Uh-huh)

Bust down the Cubans, I lit my neck up (You see the neck, bitch)

Landslidin' on niggas, don't even try to catch us

Hollow tips flyin' out of my Heckler (Brr)

We came a long way from that Digiscale

That shit too small to weigh up the shit I sell (Hahaha)

Pink Spade for my bitch, she don't do Zinfandel

Y'all ain't the only niggas gettin' money, boy, we rich as well (Hah)

Rich as hell, shooter empty out his clip and bail (Boom, boom, boom, boom)

Sniffin' yayo so long, he lost his sense of smell (Smell shit)

Before I left Cali, I sent the bale (Haha)

Hit Goose, told him, "Look out for it, it's in the mail"

I leave a nigga living room floor full of blicky shells (Brr)

Broke, we gotta kill his baby mama too, that bitch'll tell (Get that bitch too)

I'm stackin' all the profit off of every brick I sell (Cap)

I bet you pussy niggas wish I fail (Hahaha)

[Verse 2: Benny the Butcher]

Ah, hand on my clip, we animals, dismantle my strip

I'm 5'8" but 6'11" if I stand on my bricks

I cancel y'all quick with the Glock I shoot cannonballs with (Doot, doot, doot)

I sat in prison, walkin' the yard, just plannin' all this (Ah)

Uh, unknown location, I got thirty Os (I got thirty Os)

'Cause I'm too smart for that stash in the dirty clothes

I'm in the kitchen countin' cash, does she disturb me? No

Revenge a dish for greedy niggas, you gotta serve it cold (Suckers)

I had to move where the climate hot (Hot)

I took the money off the corner and invested that in private stock

Bet you know I still run the kinda spot (Yeah)

Hustlers buy the bricks in the back and the front is just a tire shop (Ah)

Big guns, ain't no quiet shots (Ain't no quiet shots)

I'll be fine if you die or not, plus I'm equipped if a riot pop (We got guns, nigga)

I threw the whole clip but he survived the shots (Brr)

I guess my aim was on but the timing not (Damn)

Felony shit, you can never be clipped (Nigga)

One night stands with women I would never be with

My OG puttin' me on, he love tellin' me shit

Said, "Black men in America could never be rich", The Butcher

[Verse 3: Westside Gunn]

Flygod

Ayo, rockin' wonders (Ah)

Wonderin' if I should rock John Undercover for the whole summer

Pole with the scratched numbers (Boom, boom, boom, boom, boom)

We wore Fear of Gods to the last supper (Ah)

So much coke, I made the Pyrex glass suffer

House of the Very Islands, stylin'

Dope pilin' on China, put the .40 to him, started firin' (Boom, boom, boom, boom, boom, boom, boom, boom, boom, boom)

Plain Jane, said I'm ahead of my time again (Ahead of my time again)

Back whippin' them nines again, back to back Lambs on Fairfax (Skrrt)

Ran out of Sweet Chick, blew the nigga head back (Boom, boom, boom, boom, boom, boom, boom, boom, boom, boom, boom)

Jetta to the Beverly Center

Bloodstains in the fifth seat, gave the blick to valet

Now you rich, M16 vicious, don't come my way, I spray (Doot, doot, doot, doot, doot, doot, doot, doot, doot, doot, doot, doot, doot, doot, doot, doot, doot)

I'm out in Tribeca baggin' up yay

Paint all on my North Face, the worst case, I'ma be rich

Collina Strada my bitch (Huh?), I'm on the yard on my drip (Huh?)

I had the Audemars wrist (Huh?), the Phillipe tucked in my Timbs (Huh?)

You better have my commissary or you gettin' that biz (Ah)

Jewelry out with my kids