"Diego Maradona" lyrics
(feat. Conway The Machine)
[The Alchemist:]
See how I'm finessin' it?
Spin move, uh
Big chain, big gold
Spin move, Rick rolled
Timb' boots, big sole
Regroup
Watch lookin' like a ball from a disco
In the limo, makin' calls from a brick phone
Maradona bounced the ball on the shinbone
Tan buttercup, the raw got her skin tone
Pillowtalkers got the spot where I send blown
If it wasn't for the blitz, it would've been thrown
To your dome, I'm a follicle that's ingrown
Carve initials with a chisel, put it in stone (Go left)
Switch whips up, you see how l'm finessin' it?
Get stitched up, lay down, you need some medicine (Yeah)
Whip up of the wrist, you see it settlin'
Put 'em in past tense, they'll be a never-been
I'm the chain on the bike, you do the peddlin'
Beat the charge, racketeerin', and embezzlement
My name will never be appearin' on the pages of a settlement
I made it through the maze, so many stages, now they say that l'm a veteran (On God, I'm just warmin' up)
I just put the key inside the ignition, and got the engine started
Twenty belows, went to Buffalo, the lens is Carti'
You see a light show, that mean that the Benz is parkin'
Fade to black, the scenery gets intense and darkish
[Conway the Machine:]
'Chine come through, gun shoot extended cartridge (Brrr)
Used to sleep on the sofa in a friend's apartment (Ah)
Now I frequent the Yves Saint Laurent department (Hahaha)
Yeah, blew twenty in the Louis V men's department (Huh? Yeah, drip)
Yeah, I don't care what so and so said, I am him regardless
My pen is sharp, lines flyin' over your head like Vincent Carter, nigga (Talk to 'em)
(Look! Up in the sky)
Think it's a game until little bro blowin' that bitch like Nintendo cartridge
Playin' with your life like you got limbs to bargain, nigga (Huh?)
I hate they compare me to niggas, so tell me who iller
My next tape, l'ma end the argument with niggas that fuckin' rap, list the artist
That's fuckin' cap, Mr. Marcus (Ha)
Probably just got more resources ('Kay)
Walk in that garage, three Porches ('Kay)
Michelin, three-star, three courses (Eatin')
Drumwork, big dogs, we bosses (Uh)
Catch a body with the sket, we toss it (Uh huh)
They realizin' I'm a threat, be cautious (Be careful, nigga)
Look, when they was eatin' they ain't give me portion (Uh uh)
Still ran up my bag regardless (Bag)
Brodie pull up with a broom and sweep off shit (Brrr)
See how I'm finessin' it?
Spin move, uh
Big chain, big gold
Spin move, Rick rolled
Timb' boots, big sole
Regroup
Watch lookin' like a ball from a disco
In the limo, makin' calls from a brick phone
Maradona bounced the ball on the shinbone
Tan buttercup, the raw got her skin tone
Pillowtalkers got the spot where I send blown
If it wasn't for the blitz, it would've been thrown
To your dome, I'm a follicle that's ingrown
Carve initials with a chisel, put it in stone (Go left)
Switch whips up, you see how l'm finessin' it?
Get stitched up, lay down, you need some medicine (Yeah)
Whip up of the wrist, you see it settlin'
Put 'em in past tense, they'll be a never-been
I'm the chain on the bike, you do the peddlin'
Beat the charge, racketeerin', and embezzlement
My name will never be appearin' on the pages of a settlement
I made it through the maze, so many stages, now they say that l'm a veteran (On God, I'm just warmin' up)
I just put the key inside the ignition, and got the engine started
Twenty belows, went to Buffalo, the lens is Carti'
You see a light show, that mean that the Benz is parkin'
Fade to black, the scenery gets intense and darkish
[Conway the Machine:]
'Chine come through, gun shoot extended cartridge (Brrr)
Used to sleep on the sofa in a friend's apartment (Ah)
Now I frequent the Yves Saint Laurent department (Hahaha)
Yeah, blew twenty in the Louis V men's department (Huh? Yeah, drip)
Yeah, I don't care what so and so said, I am him regardless
My pen is sharp, lines flyin' over your head like Vincent Carter, nigga (Talk to 'em)
(Look! Up in the sky)
Think it's a game until little bro blowin' that bitch like Nintendo cartridge
Playin' with your life like you got limbs to bargain, nigga (Huh?)
I hate they compare me to niggas, so tell me who iller
My next tape, l'ma end the argument with niggas that fuckin' rap, list the artist
That's fuckin' cap, Mr. Marcus (Ha)
Probably just got more resources ('Kay)
Walk in that garage, three Porches ('Kay)
Michelin, three-star, three courses (Eatin')
Drumwork, big dogs, we bosses (Uh)
Catch a body with the sket, we toss it (Uh huh)
They realizin' I'm a threat, be cautious (Be careful, nigga)
Look, when they was eatin' they ain't give me portion (Uh uh)
Still ran up my bag regardless (Bag)
Brodie pull up with a broom and sweep off shit (Brrr)
