Intergalactic Icons

[Verse 1: RiFF RAFF & Conway the Machine]

It's the shamrock Suburban

Hand-cooks kiss the codeine curtain

When I spilled last week with the ice on my teeth

Champagne diamonds look like ice tea on a white T

I'ma write in cursive like Kyrie Irving

Pastel pink on the color of the curtains

Prada on the surface of the purses

But I'ma disappear if the purchase wasn't worth it

Can't put the price tag on the priceless

Your wife bought her bride's dress off of Craigslist

Oriental blue swordfish, sky blue chrome

Don't put the barcode on thе Boysenberry Bobcat

The Lamborghini yacht was a vеry light lilac

Parked out back, caddy-corner to the dry shed

I found my Fendi prints in fountain blue

It's the white Cuban down in Georgia

Contrary to you, I can't work in a cubicle

Two Croatian cuties clean my cuticles

The Raspberry Rod Stewart

I don't talk about men or I don't wear Ray-Bans

If you fuck up my funds, we could never be friends again

Never try to reprimand The Cinnamon Sandman

The airdrop was tropical, life is an obstacle course

Of course I can take a college course in how to drive a Porsche

But they won't teach you about remorse or divorce

Or why did I clap my hands two times and both of my doors went up? Uh

It's The Hazelnut Harrison Ford

In a four-door DeLorean

It's the synonym smorgasbord when I hit record

I need a Dior private resort

By age four, my favorite shape was a trapezoid (Look)

RiFF

[Verse 2: Conway the Machine & Logic]

I pull up and jump out the black Mazi

So high lately, you could light a fuckin' match by me

Before the rap hobby I was selling crack probably

Somewhere selling dog food in the smack lobby

Big boogers in the watch like a brat, snotty

A few of those 'cause I get on beats, I catch bodies

Used to G-ride drinking Henny with Black Johnny

Now I'm on the jet watching NC to catch Rodney

It's like the dope game, no respect in it

You don't know if the cocaine got some Fent in it

I threw Forgies on the Rolls with the wrap finish

I got thirty in the pole, the clip extended

They say good business is the best business

So every month, my mailbox got some checks in it

I'm getting money, that should aggravate my ex-bitches

Conway and Riff Raff (Yeah, ayo), this ain't what you'd expect, is it?

[Verse 3: Logic]

Allow me to riff, smoke spliffs and sip fifths, while the Maybach drifts

This lyricism is like giving them gifts, I'm Zapp Brannigan to these Kif's

On the grind like kickflips, I stay with six zips

When I shoot from the hip, it hits

Eighteen year old Callan at the riffs

Flex nuts in a Louis tux, lock it down like a horcrux

My flow gets more bucks than a cabin wall, rap 'em all

Shine like Kenobi's weapon, I'm stepping on graves

Smoke grass and cut crack with blades

Skip class and catch fades

My bitch got the best braids, high school my best days

As a criminal lord subliminal, cause and effect

Slicing throats, gauze for your neck, pause and protect

Never got my money straight, always did it the Con-way

Older brother stayed with keys like Steinway, not my way

Listening to the 312 at noon, that's Sade

Why they hatin' on young brothers that made it?

You mad I blew up and you deflated, pick the beat and I fileted it

Spit fire like my first edition Charizard with the ten-graded

That's half a mil easy, move in silence like Weezy

My neck freezy, all this bullshit ya'll talkin' don't appease me

In a '67 Bronco riding through, money expand like Majin Boo, fuck you

Logic a decade of runnin', I leave em dunnin'

Throw you off a cliff then hit the booth the way I'm stunnin'

(Stunnin', stunnin', stunnin')