Daringer - Blakk Tape lyrics

Yeah. [Yeah] Turn that sh** up some Not bad I want to feel it in my soul my n***a Gotta give these n***as that gospel ya feel me Machine, b**h Griselda, n***a You know what I hate though? It's always one of you bum a** n***as that be talking all wreckless like ya'll n***as really live that life Like ya'll n***as really bout that, n***a Put one of you n***as on a t-shirt n***a For real n***a I'm from the hood n***a [Verse 1: Conway the Machine] All I see is bodies Everybody that got a body where I'm from Get a strap from somebody, there's probably a body on the gun My little shooters will body anybody under the sun One n***a mention my name Everybody getting the drum For fun Look I don't let a f** n***a by me Cuz they just wanna be under a King, like Kyrie n***as took the Love out the game like Olynyk So use your head, n***a, before you get a hole in it. [For Real] 50 shot fold ups, I unload the sh** Have n***as running and ducking and jumping over sh** I pull up on you, it's over with In one year, I watched my brother take over sh** G-Star Raw, Balmain moto sh** Hibachi filet and shrimp, my Kyoto dish Your cuban hollow, your rollie tick I'm doing drive-bys dolo, I'm a soloist! Even if it's broad day outside, I'm still letting off the K outside n***a I'm shooting like Klay outside Cuz everyday a n***a's gun spray outside And I ain't trying to lay outside I'm from the hood where the G's sell yay outside It could be 4 in the morning, n***a they outside Kick his door down, rob the n***a barefaced Blow his fitted on the back hall staircase Now his baby mama got the scared face She gonna take me to their safe You ain't a fly n***a, everything you wear fake Rocking Fashion Rebels letterman, the sleeves are rare snake My dawg got a rackateer case Taking it to trial, I hope he get a fair shake And you rap n***as disgust me One of the illest out, you've gotta discuss me Good kid, but I let the streets corrupt me f** around, your life gonna come to an end abruptly I'm that n***a I must be f** a b**h once, and now she trying to cuff me You ain't a shooter, you're gun dusty Black tape on the handle, the .38 rusty. [Pow pow pow] f** these n***as talking about? Ayo Daringer man, I got these n***as, man Conway the Machine, S-E Gang n***a, Griselda b**h You know how I do, you know how I play, westside what's popping n***a Yeah, yeah