"Sarah Connor" lyrics
Con-- Con--
Yeah
Conductor
Ah
We back
Uh, yeah
Picture the God timid
Niggas watch how they talk to me, they face, I'll hog, glame it
Came in as the hero but they turned me to dark villain
My back in my chest like Ron Simmons, the Lord was made in Con image
Yeah, when she had to identify the body, it made his moms grimace, shit
Eighty point [?], double R [?]
Used to be pisspoor, now I just piss on women
I had three phones, now I don't really talk cause feds giving out the RICO
The game was designed for me to lose, it ain't no cheat code
The game don't wanna acknowledge my numbers now, I'm Pete Rose
They know how Machine goes
Get the work from Columbia, the green from the gringos
I'm back writing this pain till my arm in a sling though
But I barely even write it down
I say "go", goons will come burn down your entire town
Thinking the beef is on Easy Street
Buck 50, you cheap, deep through your scar, they can see your teeth
Snort a line niggas, and pour the wine sippers
I'm the bossman, but still'll rob 49 niggas
The truck 250, the chain was another 3
Compare me to such and such, but niggas can't fuck with me
Yeah, the devil's reject back again
She Google my net worth but them numbers wasn't accurate
It's way higher
Fuck them other niggas, I'm way flyer
Race to the top, watch me skate by 'em
You know when Con get on, when dogshit on
I'm pushing that Lam chop, color garlic parm
Cooking that damn pot, turn that faucet on
You looking at boss shit, nigga, Con the don
Uh, and I'm ready to kill something
Can't kill God with bullets so I don't feel nothing, nigga, uh
Robo tech (Pop pop pop, pop pop pop)
Robo tech
Robo tech (Uh huh, uh, uh, uh)
Robo tech (Okay)
I think I'm way too thorough for this rap shit (Rap shit)
Hit 'em with the pump, make his faggot ass backflip (Make him backflip)
Look at my style these niggas got on the map with (Got on the map with)
My career aged beautifully, Angela Bassett (Talk to 'em!)
Where the smoke at? I want it
The goat back, I run it (Huh)
Got the wolves outside, 'bout to go back to hunting (Haha)
Beam on it, aim it right to your throat at, I'm gunning
You ain't built for the streets, boy
You don't have a stomach, nigga (Pop pop pop pop pop)
Choo choo
Yeah
Conductor
Ah
We back
Uh, yeah
Picture the God timid
Niggas watch how they talk to me, they face, I'll hog, glame it
Came in as the hero but they turned me to dark villain
My back in my chest like Ron Simmons, the Lord was made in Con image
Yeah, when she had to identify the body, it made his moms grimace, shit
Eighty point [?], double R [?]
Used to be pisspoor, now I just piss on women
I had three phones, now I don't really talk cause feds giving out the RICO
The game was designed for me to lose, it ain't no cheat code
The game don't wanna acknowledge my numbers now, I'm Pete Rose
They know how Machine goes
Get the work from Columbia, the green from the gringos
I'm back writing this pain till my arm in a sling though
But I barely even write it down
I say "go", goons will come burn down your entire town
Thinking the beef is on Easy Street
Buck 50, you cheap, deep through your scar, they can see your teeth
Snort a line niggas, and pour the wine sippers
I'm the bossman, but still'll rob 49 niggas
The truck 250, the chain was another 3
Compare me to such and such, but niggas can't fuck with me
Yeah, the devil's reject back again
She Google my net worth but them numbers wasn't accurate
It's way higher
Fuck them other niggas, I'm way flyer
Race to the top, watch me skate by 'em
You know when Con get on, when dogshit on
I'm pushing that Lam chop, color garlic parm
Cooking that damn pot, turn that faucet on
You looking at boss shit, nigga, Con the don
Uh, and I'm ready to kill something
Can't kill God with bullets so I don't feel nothing, nigga, uh
Robo tech (Pop pop pop, pop pop pop)
Robo tech
Robo tech (Uh huh, uh, uh, uh)
Robo tech (Okay)
I think I'm way too thorough for this rap shit (Rap shit)
Hit 'em with the pump, make his faggot ass backflip (Make him backflip)
Look at my style these niggas got on the map with (Got on the map with)
My career aged beautifully, Angela Bassett (Talk to 'em!)
Where the smoke at? I want it
The goat back, I run it (Huh)
Got the wolves outside, 'bout to go back to hunting (Haha)
Beam on it, aim it right to your throat at, I'm gunning
You ain't built for the streets, boy
You don't have a stomach, nigga (Pop pop pop pop pop)
Choo choo
