Conway - Moroccan Waters lyrics

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Conway - Moroccan Waters lyrics

[Verse 1: Conway] Look, f** a shooter I keep a gun up in my reach f** the talk, I drum a 100 when it's beef Sneak diss, we at your shows like a hundred n***as deep Just to show n***as they don't want it with the G XFR, vest kevlar, get your chest wet nah n***a I'm aimin' above it with this heat My name buzzin' so my budget just increased Cause over Daringer production I'm a beast The n***as in the hood lovin' what I speak Go tell 'em the real is back baby, them other n***as weak Lately I been countin' money In my sleep Versace watches b**h a 100 for my [?] You n***as want a deal so bad, you sign for any money [?] still spending any money I don't need a n***a to lend me money I had to come up like the DVD, now I can blow Fendi money Goyard duffle full of blue bills 40 got two bodies on it but it was new still Tell 'em n***as, I'm the truth still Heat on my lap like my suits feel Like my weed sour, I like my [?] chill 800 for the belt, talking blue steel Wind shot, get your roof peeled That's your dude tell him chill He 'bout to get him and you k**ed Them old n***as just talkin' cause they got lips Nobody in the hurl respect you when you ain't pop sh** You just another nobody thinkin' he relevant Talking and yelling sh**, go f** around and get his [?] And get his sh** push You just a rapper boy, you just spit hooks You don't know how a brick look Word up [Verse 2: Meyhem Lauren] Dirty looks will get your face [?] by a clean slap Next step, pull a mean Mac n***a I mean that Supreme rap, Dillinger speaks, k**ers in reach Rock my chain on a [?] beach Dressed up [?] But if I orchestrate the attack you gettin' splashed Chrome rockets, foam posites, grown pockets n***as spray, rockin' Cartier different optics Silk shirt like I'm in the tropics Whips spotless, grip profits Hold on my clique got this 200 thousand on the re-up Shootin' dice y'all n***as wouldn't put a G up Me and my n***as pitch, b**h You and your n***as snitch Heard on top, you was atop every bottom b**h And y'all ain't ready for the turbulence Poppin' sh** then you gotta proach 'til we ain't heard you since [?] just another Don, b**hes love the rugged charm Eat so much octopus I'm 'bout to grow another arm