All for the Goat (feat. Conway the Machine)

In the name of Prodigy (Prodigy, Prodigy)
In the name of Prodigy (Prodigy, Prodigy)
Yeah, let's go Hav
Lemme drum (Lord, Lord)

These horns made for champons
We gon' weigh them yams again
Blowin' on that gas, miake 'em yawn like a Ambien
Sleep for the rich (rich), I don't rest 'til I eat
I could drop every week, Lord, I don't miss a beat (uh-uh)
Knees bent at heaven's gate, repent from sellin' weight
I'ma say a prayer for them niggas that be tellin' Jake
Fuck a rat, fuck a cop, fuck a ho, fuck a opp
I don't fuck with nobody if they not with the Mobb
Cops readin' lips (lips), they started usin' sign languagе

Now we seein' chips (chips), they tryna throw some timе at us
RIP Bandana, for Prodigy we stand up
They trackin' all my movements (movements)
And follow me with cameras (cameras)
Hav gave the blessing, nigga, cash paid the session
We started Lord Mobb, that's the last days of stressin'
Big gas in the leaf, thick ass in the sheets

Fuck your whip, we blowin' zips and flick the ash on your seats
Motherfucker
Ah, uh
Fuck your whip, we blowin' zips and flick the ash on your seats
(Crack that motherfuckin' window, woe)
Let's go Con!
Aye!

Look, I don't wanna hear nothin' 'bout (I don't wanna hear that shit, nigga)
How your gun work, you ain't never air nothin' out (You know you pussy)
You ain't never have to up it and clear nothin' out (C'mon, man)
Pop the nigga in his stomach, it'll tear somethin' out, like (boom boom boom boom)
Intestine or kidneys, be wettin' those semis
Leave you a vegetable, my gun game is exceptional, really (my gun go off, nigga)
Peace to Shooter and V and the rest of those Billies (what up my niggas?)
When we catch 'em, we gon' leave the nigga stretched
We gon' grill him (brrr)

Free Ab, free Mula, I was thinkin' bout the homies when I just was in Philly (free the guys)
Did a show and got a 'Bach and I collect it with Benny (uh-huh)
I just got my bitch the red and white peppermint Bentley (woo)
How could you ever offend me, nigga?
I'll smack up your son, spit on your daughter
I don't respect none of you niggas, you a bitch like your father (you a bitch, nigga)
That's why the streets love my shit, I go harder (uh-huh)
Got the V12 Benz, I'm 'bout to shit on that Charger (vroom!)
Pussy



Credits
Writer(s): Demond Price, David Paul Cordova, Kejuan Muchita
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com

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