Blow 4 Blow (feat. Stove God Cooks & Benny the Butcher)
Look out!
Can we get out of here?
No, I'm enjoying this
Conductor, we have a problem
Conductor, we have a problem
Conductor, conductor, we have a prob-
Gemstar razor rippin' you
You're minuscule, gettin' paid work I weighed on the Supreme digital (Uh-huh)
I eat you niggas food (Fuck outta here)
I played the lower all night, gettin' right, sellin' a broken down '62 (I did)
Now it's autographs, lump sums from rap residuals
I know seein' me style is makin' you niggas miserable (Haha)
Keep watchin' my moves, you gon' be suicidal
I'm the God, I always knew to never worship idols
You thе champ I blow the wig off, who hold the title?
And spill thе of blood my rival all over his bible
Zip ties on my Off-White Nike shoe
Properly flip pies, clique with guys that'll knife you (Uh-huh)
Who don't speak much, read body language and move smart
Keep a chrome trey-pound to match the Chrome Hearts
Pay me on time, all hundreds, like I'm a loan shark
Mommy said, "You should be rich already, think you so smart"
Before monetary, I was wealthy in the mind already
Playin' first to execute millions, I need many
You niggas hopeless and your pockets got pennies with holes
Your attempt to copy is sloppy, we broke the mold (Woah)
I had coke, I made the fiends go blow for blow
Whoever win overdose, you niggas know we're close
Ha (Fuck outta here)
One brick, two brick, three (Hahaha)
Ah
Syrup in the Sunkist (Ah)
You know who run shit (We do), kilo rappers unzipped (Oh)
I mean, they probably did somethin', but they ain't done this (Haha)
They shot the plug whip
He died in the parking lot, with like a hundred bricks (Brr, brr)
I got the news, was out in Paris, it fucked up my trip (Dang)
Like, why he couldn't get killed after the drop-off? (Haha)
We got the Maybach truck outside the Mondrian
They like, "You doin' cocaine numbers with that vinyl, huh?" (We is)
Yeah, bitch, I took that wax and went Daniel-san (Woo)
I dove head first in the blocks
Had the bread stuffed in a box, flame so hot, I dropped the pot
I caught it and the cookie still was good, I'm Magic Johnson
If we holdin' Ace bottles on the couch, we got the choppers in (Brrt, baow, choppers)
Ooh, the feds comin' (Ooh, they comin')
Turn the phones off, the feds comin' (Turn the phones off)
Them niggas hangin' out the window ain't tryna dead nothin' (Brr, baow)
Them niggas ain't— Stove, nigga (Haha, yeah)
This rap shit got me back, I swear to God it's a blessin'
We still toxic like Rodman and Carmen Electra
I'm puttin' 'em all in a shredder, my bars gettin' better
I'm talkin' slickest raindrops fallin' off a umbrella
That's what happens when them bullshit rumors get back to me (Heard what you said)
It's like givin' a arsonist matches and gasoline, nigga
I'm on your neck like that tank on Master P, nah
Nigga, I'm on your neck like the tag on tees
Coach called me in to play, I stopped playin' the bench (I did)
My baby mama made a post and I stopped payin' the rent (Damn)
My watch hand like, "Goddamn, the clock hand at six"
Won't get a word out of whoever I hand a brick
I'm a hustler, so I can deliver if you got a order (On my way)
'Cause they got rich off shit that was free, like bottled water
Who there when your dollars shorter? (Who there?)
I'm like KD in free agency, countin' offers
And I won't take a dollar shorter (Ah)
You'd probably be up too if you had some rich partners
Compressors make packs shrink like a witch doctor
I'm a fit shopper, brick locker, a whip copper (Skrrt)
WNBA, score on her and then block her (Then block her)
Uh-huh, these for the boys that I made a man
Hustlers I handed they first packs and gave a chance
If you're lookin' for a hustle and need you a stable plan
I suggest you stand next to the God like Abraham (Abraham)
Butcher, nigga (Ah), let's go
The spring water
And I was cracked out on crack cocaine, but I'm still fightin'
'Cause I got to keep my gloves on for the devil and his evil angels
But I'm- I'm- I'm- I was cracked out on crack cocaine
Now I'm cracked out on Jesus
And I'm a minister
I'm a minister for the love, hallelujah
Cracked out on crack cocaine, now he's a minister of the gospel
Can we get out of here?
No, I'm enjoying this
Conductor, we have a problem
Conductor, we have a problem
Conductor, conductor, we have a prob-
Gemstar razor rippin' you
You're minuscule, gettin' paid work I weighed on the Supreme digital (Uh-huh)
I eat you niggas food (Fuck outta here)
I played the lower all night, gettin' right, sellin' a broken down '62 (I did)
Now it's autographs, lump sums from rap residuals
I know seein' me style is makin' you niggas miserable (Haha)
Keep watchin' my moves, you gon' be suicidal
I'm the God, I always knew to never worship idols
You thе champ I blow the wig off, who hold the title?
And spill thе of blood my rival all over his bible
Zip ties on my Off-White Nike shoe
Properly flip pies, clique with guys that'll knife you (Uh-huh)
Who don't speak much, read body language and move smart
Keep a chrome trey-pound to match the Chrome Hearts
Pay me on time, all hundreds, like I'm a loan shark
Mommy said, "You should be rich already, think you so smart"
Before monetary, I was wealthy in the mind already
Playin' first to execute millions, I need many
You niggas hopeless and your pockets got pennies with holes
Your attempt to copy is sloppy, we broke the mold (Woah)
I had coke, I made the fiends go blow for blow
Whoever win overdose, you niggas know we're close
Ha (Fuck outta here)
One brick, two brick, three (Hahaha)
Ah
Syrup in the Sunkist (Ah)
You know who run shit (We do), kilo rappers unzipped (Oh)
I mean, they probably did somethin', but they ain't done this (Haha)
They shot the plug whip
He died in the parking lot, with like a hundred bricks (Brr, brr)
I got the news, was out in Paris, it fucked up my trip (Dang)
Like, why he couldn't get killed after the drop-off? (Haha)
We got the Maybach truck outside the Mondrian
They like, "You doin' cocaine numbers with that vinyl, huh?" (We is)
Yeah, bitch, I took that wax and went Daniel-san (Woo)
I dove head first in the blocks
Had the bread stuffed in a box, flame so hot, I dropped the pot
I caught it and the cookie still was good, I'm Magic Johnson
If we holdin' Ace bottles on the couch, we got the choppers in (Brrt, baow, choppers)
Ooh, the feds comin' (Ooh, they comin')
Turn the phones off, the feds comin' (Turn the phones off)
Them niggas hangin' out the window ain't tryna dead nothin' (Brr, baow)
Them niggas ain't— Stove, nigga (Haha, yeah)
This rap shit got me back, I swear to God it's a blessin'
We still toxic like Rodman and Carmen Electra
I'm puttin' 'em all in a shredder, my bars gettin' better
I'm talkin' slickest raindrops fallin' off a umbrella
That's what happens when them bullshit rumors get back to me (Heard what you said)
It's like givin' a arsonist matches and gasoline, nigga
I'm on your neck like that tank on Master P, nah
Nigga, I'm on your neck like the tag on tees
Coach called me in to play, I stopped playin' the bench (I did)
My baby mama made a post and I stopped payin' the rent (Damn)
My watch hand like, "Goddamn, the clock hand at six"
Won't get a word out of whoever I hand a brick
I'm a hustler, so I can deliver if you got a order (On my way)
'Cause they got rich off shit that was free, like bottled water
Who there when your dollars shorter? (Who there?)
I'm like KD in free agency, countin' offers
And I won't take a dollar shorter (Ah)
You'd probably be up too if you had some rich partners
Compressors make packs shrink like a witch doctor
I'm a fit shopper, brick locker, a whip copper (Skrrt)
WNBA, score on her and then block her (Then block her)
Uh-huh, these for the boys that I made a man
Hustlers I handed they first packs and gave a chance
If you're lookin' for a hustle and need you a stable plan
I suggest you stand next to the God like Abraham (Abraham)
Butcher, nigga (Ah), let's go
The spring water
And I was cracked out on crack cocaine, but I'm still fightin'
'Cause I got to keep my gloves on for the devil and his evil angels
But I'm- I'm- I'm- I was cracked out on crack cocaine
Now I'm cracked out on Jesus
And I'm a minister
I'm a minister for the love, hallelujah
Cracked out on crack cocaine, now he's a minister of the gospel
Credits
Writer(s): Jeremie Scorpio Pennick, Jerome Anthony Allen, Aaron M. Scott, Denzel Dewayne Williams
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
Link
© 2024 All rights reserved. Rockol.com S.r.l. Website image policy
Rockol
- Rockol only uses images and photos made available for promotional purposes (“for press use”) by record companies, artist managements and p.r. agencies.
- Said images are used to exert a right to report and a finality of the criticism, in a degraded mode compliant to copyright laws, and exclusively inclosed in our own informative content.
- Only non-exclusive images addressed to newspaper use and, in general, copyright-free are accepted.
- Live photos are published when licensed by photographers whose copyright is quoted.
- Rockol is available to pay the right holder a fair fee should a published image’s author be unknown at the time of publishing.
Feedback
Please immediately report the presence of images possibly not compliant with the above cases so as to quickly verify an improper use: where confirmed, we would immediately proceed to their removal.