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Spurs 3
Conway The Machine


Spurs 3 Lyrics (feat. Benny The Butcher & Westside Gunn)

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[Intro: Conway the Machine]
Doot, doot, doot, doot, doot, doot, doot, doot, doot, doot, doot, doot, doot, doot, doot, doot, doot

[Verse 1: Conway the Machine & BENNY THE BUTCHER]
Detectives combin' through the hood lookin' for a corpse
Draco hittin', I don't think your body can endure the force
I whip the fish up with a f*ckin' hanger or a fork
Told that bitch go ahead, sniff what you want, it's plenty more to snort
I had an outstandin' warrant for a short
Turned myself in rockin' Louis and all my jewelry, I wore to court (Hahahaha)
Cop pulled me over in my imported Porsche
He said, "this car must be a hundred-K", I said, "You forty short" (Short, nigga)
My nigga droppin' bodies for the sport
Violate us, got tragedy written all over it like the war report (Hah)
Most of you rap niggas, I pistol whip you or extort
I'm the Machine, I f*ck bitches you can't afford to court
Clout chasin', every verse, you name droppin'
Taggin' niggas in your post, hopin' that they comment back and at you in it
I don't wanna rap, don't wanna dap you niggas
I honestly don't give no f*cks about bein' friends with a rapper nigga (Not at all)
Griselda, bitch, we the inspiration (Hah)
You can see me and Gunn influencin' all the music these niggas makin'
Ask B Dot and Elliot, they will tell you yes
Ask my nigga Mal and Joe Budden, they can tell you best
Ask the homie Wayno and 'em, they'll confess
Lotta albums are suddenly startin' to feel a lil' more Griselda-esque
Talk to Ebro, ask Sway in the Morning
About the impact of this movement, sure they'll say it's enormous
'Member I used to sell the yay with the AK on the corner
Now reality TV bitches keep sayin' I'm gorgeous (What up, baby?)
I got the flooded AP, my jeweller sayin' it's flawless
That's probably cap, but what he askin', I'ma pay it regardless (Hahahaha)
Every other day it's menages, racin' garages
Made the bitch suck this dick until she say she exhausted
Keep a shooter with me that don't mind takin' the charges
Basically, May Street made me this heartless, Machine

[Verse 2: Westside Gunn]
Don't ever try to play me (Don't ever try to play me, boom, boom, boom, boom, boom, boom, boom)
You know what time it is, baguette the AP (Ah)
I go to sleep with the MAC
Wake up, brush my teeth with the MAC (Brr, brr, brr)

Pots with powder 'round the edges, this the crime that I perfected
I had to dodge a lot of questions from crooked homicide detectives
In a raid, white boys with vest-es, powder 'round the exits
Sawed-off shotgun, double barrel, I filed it down symmetric
Yeah, I snap a finger, Scram clap the nina
You lost your bitch, I haven't seen her, the cash I got attractin' singers
A bag of heaters in the back of Bimmers
Cocaine, there go Chain like DMC in them black Adidas
I remember when it was dirt cheap
I don't know what you gon' name this, but it's soundin' like Spurs 3
I earned keep now everybody tryna get a verse free
Jewels like we do Travis Scott numbers numbers the first week, keep up
I don't mention y'all niggas' names, pillow talkin', playin' lil' games
This a man's world, you at your best when you middle aged
Streets waitin', if I don't drop, all the hustlers gon' get enraged
Room full of bitches, first we gon' f*ck 'em, then get on stage
Who knew, I up and married the game, ain't get engaged
On the prison yard, next to a jack like a ten of spades
Griselda, we applyin' the pressure into the game
These niggas talk greasy on tracks and then explain, p*ssy

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Songwriter(s): Beat Butcha, BENNY THE BUTCHER, Westside Gunn
Record Label(s): 2020 Griselda Records Drumwork EMPIRE
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