94′ Ghost Shit Lyrics - Conway

[Verse 1: Conway] 

Look, look, look 

I can't relate to you niggas, your shit is not relatable 

Grimiest of all time, that shit is not debatable 

Chopper wave at you, your vest can't stop, when I'm poppin' the K in you 

No matter what god you're prayin' to, I'm not gon' play with you 

This shit is not for radio, I'm not complainin' though 

Still headin' to the top, a spot they said was not obtainable 

Because the way my face look from when them niggas shot my cranial 

Area, how I'm still livin'? That shit is not explainable 

Free them niggas locked in cages who was gettin' blocks of yayo through 

Them the niggas I dropped my pagers to 

Them young niggas with 30 shot Glocks to flame at you 

Niggas who got multiple bodies before they was 20, I can name a few 

Ayo, Machine, them niggas not the same as you 

Them niggas playin' crazy but them niggas not the same as you 

Bitch, I got HKs with lasers on the top to aim at you 

Bitch, I got AKs, I'm sprayin' boy, you not gon' make it through 

Heard this old washed up rap nigga was talkin' reckless 

On the internet and shit, that kinda shit I don't respect it 

Tell you once, leave my name off of your records 

Like Nino, I will walk you through 'jects, punch in your chin while you neckin' 

I'm respected by the OGs, the gangstas, and paroles 

That smoke the K2, they don't blow trees, but sniff 'til their nose bleed 

Cut off your fuckin' wrist tryna get your Rollie, them bitch niggas know me, ha 

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[Chorus: Westside Gunn] 

Ayo, your bottle green, my shit clear (shit clear) 

Whip the Tesla X, I don't even steer (even steer, skrt) 

Woo on me, kick rocker (kick rocker) 

Load the MAC up and gift shop it (shop it, grr) 

[Verse 2: Conway] 

I get the shotty from the drawer (talk to 'em) 

Uh, another body finna fall 

I move the product to the zombies in the hall 

Aim good, I could write my name in cursive with the Tommy in the wall 

I put buck fifties on the side of niggas' jaws 

They don't want problems at all, I know a lot of niggas saw, uh 

I gotta be a boss, rockin' Prada in the mall 

Knot in my pocket I got from flippin' raw, uh 

Whip the white 'til the shit fluff, uh 

Shit on my wrist costs a brick plus 

Fif' tucked, run up on me get your shit bust 

Hit six plus times, got you zipped up 

Black bag that, your body like my last track 

I turn my hat back, my youngin poppin' at your dad hat 

That's facts, I had to bag crack just to have racks 

Jumped off the porch, I live my life on the fast tracks 

Had straps hid under the porch and where the trash at 

Jack boys kick your door down, where the cash at? 

Woah, I'm the scientist, not the lab rat 

Machine, bitch, brah, brah, hashtag that 

Photos 

[Chorus: Westside Gunn] 

Ayo, your bottle green, my shit clear (shit clear) 

Whip the Tesla X, I don't even steer (even steer, skrt) 

Woo on me, kick rocker (kick rocker) 

Load the MAC up and gift shop it (shop it, grr) 

[Outro: Westside Gunn] 

When these come out, Ronnie? 

My PS smellin' like a pissy lobby 

These niggas on some ho shit 

Stocking on my face on some '94 Ghost shit 

Stocking on my face, nigga (face, nigga) 

On some '94 Ghost shit (Ghost shit)