Conway – Moroccan Waters (feat. Meyhem Lauren)

[Verse 1: Conway]
Look, fuck a shooter I keep a gun up in my reach
Fuck the talk, I drum a 100 when it’s beef
Sneak diss, we at your shows like a hundred niggas deep
Just to show niggas they don’t want it with the G
XFR, vest kevlar, get your chest wet nah
Nigga 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 niggas in the hood lovin’ what I speak
Go tell ’em the real is back baby, them other niggas weak
Lately I been countin’ money In my sleep
Versace watches bitch a 100 for my [?]
You niggas want a deal so bad, you sign for any money
[?] still spending any money
I don’t need a nigga 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 niggas, 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 killed
Them old niggas just talkin’ cause they got lips
Nobody in the hurl respect you when you ain’t pop shit
You just another nobody thinkin’ he relevant
Talking and yelling shit, go fuck around and get his [?]
And get his shit 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 nigga I mean that
Supreme rap, Dillinger speaks, killers 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
Niggas 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 niggas wouldn’t put a G up
Me and my niggas pitch, bitch
You and your niggas snitch
Heard on top, you was atop every bottom bitch
And y’all ain’t ready for the turbulence
Poppin’ shit then you gotta proach ’til we ain’t heard you since
[?] just another Don, bitches love the rugged charm
Eat so much octopus I’m ’bout to grow another arm