Still Praying

[Intro: DJ Drama]

Can't forget the family

Legendary

[Verse 1: Westside Gunn & Conway the Machine]

Ayo, Chane'-ne', head to toe with the loaded AK (Grr)

Free Kutter, I just said I loved him on the JPay (Ah)

Bustdown's bool, but I feel richer in the Plain Jane (Woo)

The TEC-9's bool, but ain't shit like the (Bang, bang)

Machine, get paid a bag just for the way he spaz

Niggas went viral (What happened?), they career spiral like a Brady pass (Ha)

The AP flash, it's rare, shit only me and Tom Brady has (Oh, word?)

Bulletproof Mercedes glass, don't make me spaz on you, nigga (Don't make me spaz on you, pussy)

Ayo, Louis millionaires on billionaires

Money counter shorts, we kill you there (Boom, boom, boom, boom, boom)

Spin your thoughts on the ceiling fan (Ah)

Tie your lil' brother up for a kilogram

Two days later, sent back your hand (Mm)

Three days later, send the other hand

Glock with the rubber band (Boom-boom-boom-boom-boom)

Switch on it, shots get to stutterin' like Duh Duh Man (Brrt), then hopped in the Cullinan

Remember days when we was in the spot, we was pumpin' tan (Bag up)

My fingertips blistered, gotta chop with my other hand (Woo)

Ayo, .50 calibers, Ricky over trench, Bount Dracula (Boom-boom-boom-boom-boom-boom)

Massacre, all you see was fire out the passenger (Doot, doot, doot, doot, doot)

Clappin' ya, you better step your fashion up (Ah)

Celine mask spectacular, McQueen's black and lavender (Uh-huh)

My king's trapped in Attica (Woo) Machine back, AR-15 clap and splatter ya (Pow, pow, pow, pow)

My team will whack the pastor up (Talk to these niggas, king)

Ayo, lion's head's on (Woo), Tiger Asics (Huh?), Bulgari spaceships (Ah)

Blow your head off, make it make sense (Boom, boom, boom, boom, boom)

A thousand shell cases, your shit overrated (Yeah, hahaha)

With J.I.D, 400 dollar plates out in Copenhagen

[Verse 2: Conway the Machine & Stove God Cooks]

It's easy to make dough, but save it (Talk to 'em)

You show a nigga where you stashin' at, then he supposed to take it

That nigga just came home, you know he over-anxious (Ah)

My bitch rockin' Van Cleef on her anklets (Uh-huh)

Rapper get out of pocket, the bros gon' spank him (Ayo, get that nigga)

Shit, yeah, two thousand bricks of flacka

God, watch my six, he up the Cannon or Draco, blocka

Kutter locked up, a million dollars cash for when he pop up

Gave bricks to my squad, I even called my shooter Waka (Woo)

So I'm gucci when I move (Ah, ah)

Icy as a fuck, bitches was thinkin' Gucci in the room (Hahaha)

And I'm most likely richer than most these dudes that's in the room (Bag)

My lil' head buster, he gon' hit your kufi when he boom, nigga

Heh, yeah, he itchin' to fire off (Uh-huh)

Word to Allah, you gon' get your bean pied, that's your Final Call, ah (Ah, boom, boom, boom, boom)

[Verse 3: Stove God Cooks]

I'm gon' make you pay for what you did

You gon' pray we never spin your block again (Grrr, ba-ba-ba)

How you get recliners in your Benz? (Woo)

I thought you knew that we was rich, bitch

[Chorus: Stove God Cooks]

Yeah, oh

All my cocaine whippers, yeah, oh

I came up off cookin' yayo

I heard he dropped dead from the fent'

They shot him tryna hop the fence, hoo (Brr)

[Bridge: Stove God Cooks]

If it ain't Griselda, it don't mean nothin' (Woo)

If it ain't Michelle, it don't mean nothin'

If it ain't Fourth Rope, it don't mean nothin' (Woo)

If he ain't die, it don't mean nothin' (Hahahaha)

[Refrain: Stove God Cooks]

Fifty million later, and we still prayin' (We up)

We survived it all, and we still prayin' (We good)

He lost his appeal, they got him still prayin'

Feel Virgil's spirit in the Louis store, we still prayin' (Woo)

[Verse 4: Stove God Cooks]

My first brick, made me feel godly (Made me feel God)

My tenth brick, I told them broke niggas "Get behind me" (Stove)

My twenty-third brick, I turned everyone Siamese (Woo)

By my fifty-fifth pickup, nigga, I felt like Bronny (Woo)

[Chorus: Stove God Cooks]

Yeah, oh (Yeah, oh)

All my cocaine whippers, yeah, oh

I came up off cookin' yayo

I heard he dropped dead off the fent'

They shot him jumpin' out the whip (Grrr, ba-ba)

[Refrain: Stove God Cooks & Boldy James]

Fifty million later, and we still prayin' (Woo, cha-ching)

We survived it all, and we still prayin' (Mafia)

He lost his appeal, they got him still prayin' (Yeah, gang, what else?)

Feel Virgil's spirit in the Louis store, we still prayin' (Woo)

[Verse 5: Boldy James]

My dance moves gettin' tricky (EDM), seem like my custos gettin' picky (Titi)

Killers in the drug zone gettin' wicked (My youngins)

Drum on the Minnie Riperton (Rah), big micro in the miniature (Achy-breaky)

Mix the Rick with Balenci' (Yeah), stick on me like I'm Pinky (Stick dance)

Pop up O.T. in Livingston (County), brick on me, I'm from Michigan (Detroit, East Side)

'Fresh Prince' of the Belle with that Uncle Phil and Auntie Vivian (Yeah)

Ain't no smilin' and gigglin' (At all), free the guys stuck on that island with Gilligan

Jammin' (Free the gargoyles), 30 A.M., ain't talkin' antimeridian, slammin' (Slap box)

Yerkies and tens in the Upper Peninsula

Lettin' girlie work her hand, she got a touch of dementia (That's a taste test)

I'm not a rap star, I'm a drug tzar (Kingpin), somewhat of a emperor (Yeah)

On Hellblock (Yeah), me and Young Lord where it's blisterin' temperatures (6-4 like Nintendo, what else?)

[Verse 6: Benny The Butcher]

Twenty piece ago, when I first rocked that first piece of blow (Ah)

I hand stretched it like Papa John pizza dough

How can y'all be so broke, when I monetize legal dope?

Then I, declined that meetin' with Donald, I don't even vote

Rock sizzled on the black spoon, turned my kitchen to a classroom

My crib into a stash room, a zip into half moon

Play Robert Glasper, jazz tunes

Y'all let the beef age like it's wagyu

But, you get it done that day when you in that loop, uh

Gold chains and tracksuits, bulletproof glass coupe

The statute of limitations'll never pass with what we...

Nah, I did what I had to, this shit done went past truce

This not your ordinary rap group, Griselda, nigga (Ah)

Handle on the pot, jigglin'

It's ninety in this bitch, but with this time piece on my wrist, I'm shiverin'

My road to glory was time-sensitive

Bust a Presi', then got rid of it (Tick-tock, tick-tock)

Sixty carat Pyrex, I'm different (I'm Butch')

And fuck rap, 'cause I'm livin it

And fuck that, it say a lot about y'all if you not feelin' it

I been in the top ten of it, a pen you can drop killers with

A rap sheet you can eat off, so y'all's, let's not mention it, gang (Gangsta Grillz)

[Outro: DJ Drama]

Griselda is forever