Conway - 94' Ghost sh** lyrics

[Verse 1: Conway] Look, look, look I can't relate to you n***as, your sh** is not relatable Grimiest of all time, that sh** 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 sh** 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 n***as shot my cranial Area, how I'm still livin'? That sh** is not explainable Free them n***as locked in cages who was gettin' blocks of yayo through Them the n***as I dropped my pagers to Them young n***as with 30 shot Glocks to flame at you n***as who got multiple bodies before they was 20, I can name a few Ayo, Machine, them n***as not the same as you Them n***as playin' crazy but them n***as not the same as you b**h, I got HKs with lasers on the top to aim at you b**h, I got AKs, I'm sprayin' boy, you not gon' make it through Heard this old washed up rap n***a was talkin' reckless On the internet and sh**, that kinda sh** 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 f**in' wrist tryna get your Rollie, them b**h n***as know me, ha [Chorus: Westside Gunn] Ayo, your bottle green, my sh** clear (sh** 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 n***as' jaws They don't want problems at all, I know a lot of n***as 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 sh** fluff, uh sh** on my wrist costs a brick plus Fif' tucked, run up on me get your sh** 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, b**h, brah, brah, hashtag that [Chorus: Westside Gunn] Ayo, your bottle green, my sh** clear (sh** 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 n***as on some ho sh** Stocking on my face on some '94 Ghost sh** Stocking on my face, n***a (face, n***a) On some '94 Ghost sh** (Ghost sh**)