John Woo Flick Lyrics by Conway the Machine, Benny The Butcher, Westside Gunn is latest English song with music also given by Kill & Daringer. John Woo Flick song lyrics are written by Conway the Machine, Benny The Butcher, Westside Gunn & Daringer.
John Woo Flick Song Detail
| Song Name: | John Woo Flick |
| Singer: | Conway the Machine, Benny The Butcher, Westside Gunn |
| Composer: | Kill & Daringer |
| Lyrics by: | Conway the Machine, Benny The Butcher, Westside Gunn, Daringer |
John Woo Flick Lyrics
Look, tell them rap ni**as we takin’ over, had to change the flow up
Now I’m in the maybach sippin’ a spade mimosa
Take the bid and make the quota with the bakin’ soda
Pray to jehovah, k with the shoulder strap, spray his home up (brr)
Wait, hold up, if I said so, spray your rover
Spray the fold-up, ni**as good fellas like ray liotta (hah)
Sprayed eighty, the baby woke up (brr)
Shooter sniff the yay, he need to wake his nose up (cash)
I’m from the east side, them ni**as over there be wildin’ (uh-huh)
And catchin’ bodies, throwin’ bullets like aaron rodgers (talk to ’em)
I’m lookin’ at these rap ni**as like, “Is there a problem?” (what’s poppin’, ni**a?)
I part the middle of your head like larry johnson (woo)
Kush in the morning, drink my ‘gnac in the day
I’m tired of hearin’ old ni**as talk ’bout back in the day (f**k outta here)
I ride around with two things, that’s a mac and a k
Act like I’m playin’, I’m pullin’ up and I’ma blast you away (brr brr, brr, brr)
Uh, yeah, I need to see the money pile over (uh-huh)
My shooter comin’ off the bench like kyle korver (boom boom boom)
Hide the body for a month and left a foul odor
I’m kobe bryant on my team, I’m the f**kin’ closer, ni**a (machine)
Sprayed eighty, the baby woke up (yeah, s**t real, ni**a, uh)
Sprayed eighty, the baby woke up (the whole house heard that s**t, ni**a)
Sprayed eighty, the baby woke up (hit everything, ni**a
Make sure you hit everything, ni**a, empty them clips, homie
Sprayed eighty, the baby woke up (brr, brr brr, brr, yeah, boom boom boom)
Daringer compared to rza
I’m compared to ni**as that’ll stab you in your face with a pair of scissors (hold that)
Courtside watchin’ the wizards, cartiers expensive (uh-huh)
Air the extended (uh-huh), have you layin’ somewhere in intensive (brr brr, ah)
I swing this mac, I’m clearin’ the fences
Enough shooters on my team to embarra*s the pistons (ni**a)
The trap empty, all I had, kitchenware and a biscuit (that’s it)
I need a pile of dirty cash and somewhere I can rinse it (uh-huh)
This for my ni**as in the fed max who pray daily (I ‘member that)
My dawg pulled his mask up and sprayed eighty (brr)
That’s wayne perry s**t, y’all ni**as wayne bradys (y’all pu**y, huh)
I’m leavin’ with your daughter if you can’t pay me (what’s poppin’?)
These ogs ’round me real veterans (facts)
My shooters real reckless, it take a lot for me to feel threatened (ni**a)
In interviews, they askin’ real questions (like what?)
Like, “Is you still hustlin’? In videos, you usin’ real weapons?” (no comment)
If it’s time to clip you, we the ones to move
I got the call about it before I seen it on the news (ah)
Light brown interior, the seats peanut butter too
The whole gang be doin’ life if we leave it up to you (uh, you a rat, ni**a)
Everybody g ’til they get hit with a hawk (hit with a hawk)
Walk the main line in the l and get hit with a fork (uh-huh)
Had a clientele’s list that was as big as new york
That’s why the door on my bedroom thick as a vault
The butcher, ni**a, ah
Ayo, no bricks in the off-white rimowa
Them s**ts see-through, we rock it for the culture
Bodies on each pole, keep actin’ like you know us
Boom boom boom boom boom boom boom boom boom
Beautiful nightmares, we runnin’ out of soda
So much dior homme, thought I was kim jones
F**k it, cop me an island, dip the benz in gold (skrrt)
Cook another brick, then the kitchen closed (ah)
Ran up in his locker, take that ni**a phone (ah)
Catch him in his cell, my akh sprayed him up (brr)
He did it for some oil and a prayer rug
Machinegun in the summer, still wearin’ gloves
B.O meet me in the mess hall with all my bloods
Inshallah, I see a hundred
Get caught with it, I’ll be home in three summers (ah)
Get caught without it, might not live to speak about it
My ni**a still got forty, he might not leave up out it
Sprayed eighty, the baby woke up (yeah, s**t real, ni**a, uh)
Sprayed eighty, the baby woke up (the whole house heard that s**t, ni**a)
Sprayed eighty, the baby woke up (hit everything, ni**a
Make sure you hit everything, ni**a, empty them clips, homie
Sprayed eighty, the baby woke up (brr, brr brr, brr, yeah, boom boom boom)
John Woo Flick Song Video