[Keisha Plum]
Blood gurglin' at the back of his throat
The smell of gunpowder suffocated his nose
Echoes of screams clingin' to life
But he will never leave, came back like it's prophecy
Roberto Cavalli drenched in Burberry trenches
Immaculate in Prada boots
Tom Ford florals, double breasted suits
Send a message to him, from his beloved auntie
Left blood on her lace doilies
It'll be weeks before they find her body
And I'm lookin' like the goddess of beauty
Gettin' fed white grapes by a shorty named ???
I'm fingerin' her pussy as he kisses her on the neck
She is our bird's nest, I ask for her by request
The night gets wet
Spontaneous shootouts
Niggas bring out the heat in the chilly Buffalo streets
Live bodies all over the concrete
This is what happens when Keisha Plum meets the Machine
Smokin' weed by the pound, the devil's playground
Burnt mahogany, truffle oils, Persian caviar
The bullets left artwork in his skin
Beautiful scars
God
God Don't Make Mistakes
God Don't Make Mistakes
God Don't Make Mistakes
God Don't Make Mistakes
[Conway the Machine]
Uh, zipper on stomach, that's mad stitches, young mothers crackin' dishes
Young nigga's father never present, that was missin'
Young kings pack the jail, pack the prison, come home, go back to prison
Bad decisions, bad position, judges over-sentence, that was ???
Look out for police stations, old cases, probation
Parole boards with dirty lawyers, uh, yeah
Closed the schools, uncle paid, teachers missin' education
Race discrimination, fuck a job application
Trap house, twelve twelve, bags, plates, invasions
Not Jesus Chirst, forty-five is my savior
Bells Palsy, bullet scars, foreign cars
Celestial beings align with the stars, aw
Look what I became
I went from king to a god
Paroles2Chansons dispose d’un accord de licence de paroles de chansons avec la Société des Editeurs et Auteurs de Musique (SEAM)
