Bless Picasso - Paper Spiders (Ft. Conway the Machine & Kool G Rap)

[Intro: Kool G Rap]
Yeah, y'all know what it is, man
Bless Picasso
The ferocious KGR
You know what it do

[Verse 1: Kool G Rap & Conway the Machine]
(Uh) Whole world goin’ crazy (Crazy)
Balance in Haiti to the dried-up Euphrates
When they say peace [?] people pushin' daisies (Daisies)
Fascinated, givin' birth to black-eyed babies (For real)
Beginnin’ of sorrow's clearly what we livin' in
Blood-red rivers and lakes with nutn swimmin' in
Brick covers [?] crash gon' finish men (Finish men)
Skinny and thin nigga, whole body diminishin'
Feel for the beats, two degrees, gangs rule the streets
What I foresee's a whole lotta eulogies
[?] cruelty, niggas killin' for food to eat
[?] as well as they broke inside the zoo to feast
Military teams sweep a whole buildin’ clean (Clean)
Faced with them guillotines, niggas gon’ spill the beans (Uh)
Don't even think that you can split the scene
Your grip is mean, stretched from the strips (Yeah) in Queens to the Phillipines

[Verse 2: Conway the Machine & Bless Picasso]
Still be on go time, still be on G missions (Huh)
Still got the dope in the kitchen, boy, remixin’ (Whip)
Used to fiends standin' at the back window, teeth missin' (Haha)
Now, it's G-Wagens with the AMG deep dishes
(Talk to these niggas, king) Yeah, look
Million-dollar trap phone (Yeah)
The Lamborghini truck [?] chrome (Vroom)
The Devil’s reject—boy, I'm back in that zone (Ah)
Put him in a wheelchair forever; shot his backbone (Boom boom boom boom) ([?]) (Real)
[Verse 3: Bless Picasso]
My OG got more time than Taxstone (For real)
Was sellin' white squares; they were black-owned (Uh-huh)
The sawed-off Mossberg long as a [?] (Blaow)
Built a new crib and traded brick for the black stone (Woo)
The sixteenth letter, no guy fresher (Uh-huh)
The pie-stretcher and Pyrex couldn't measure the weight
Versace plates with the gold trim (Mm)
A skull fractured by some old Timbs; broke in spots and stole [?]
Sold 'em on the block, not the pawn shop (What we doin' now?)
850 with roof chop; sold bud out a shoebox
A new watch; I set in on European time
Only chat about the cash; all else is TMI
What I fly: American, first class, no sharin' tints
Got [?] mixin' [?] with the peach; that's the regiment
In Maryland, I'm watchin' 'em box right by the harbor (Mm)
Starter hat flipped to the back; they tried to starve us (Right)
Live from the corner where Pookie died
Really ain't nobody else to blame; it's you and I—it's truth and lies
Picture this clear: my credit is limitless (That's real)
The cemetary's passin' out memberships
Fish and chips sold by your momma to bury you
My city ain't a joke at night and daylight is scary too—you hear me? Boo!
The .45 in the Woolrich
I woke up on Easter to rob the preacher in the pulpit—gone!
[Outro: Lamor Miller-Whitehead]
When I seen the armed men come in, you know, it was specifically for me. Um, it was specifically for me and when I see them come into the sanctuary with their guns, I told everybody, "Get out. Everybody just get out."

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