MiNt cHoCoLaTe Lyrics (feat. Conway the Machine)

1,2
1,2
Ay yo, ay yo
Ay yo
My shooter hitting everything
Rollin off the wet (ah)
Stressing in that cell used to have to call collect
Now tassels on the Celine leather
I’m on a jet
I’m a land on the Rec
Steal sly out that stretch
320 a month
Laps around the sun
My shooter hummin ain’t no sunshine
Loading up a drum (mmhmm)
Everybody father
Coke in agua (ah)
Had to lay low
I had a bitch in Cheektowaga (ah)
At minimum I had 50 soups in the locker (ah)
Touch mine
Stab you off adrenaline
Proper
I’m from the eastside of hell
Where the devil wear Dolce
The Mac clip don’t stop
Marni slippers all bozy
In the law library you should’ve heard black told me
Worthy pack ya shit up
Pulled off in a rosey
Thank GOD GOD chose me
The baddest bitch you ever seen
Told her don’t touch the pony
(Super fly guy)
Look, look, ah
Pyrex vision kitchen wet
I was whippin’ got my wrists is like
I won the strongest man competition
Send the roadie on the slider mission
All my oppositions they talkin tough but they was not convincing
30 shots of ransom
Just looked at my account and more direct deposits hit it
Got my richest still in my prime but I just had the optimistic
I had some setbacks, but I remained optimistic
I’m out the trenches, hot pockets, mystics
Now it’s lobster dishes (talk to ’em)
I nobody and these beats is what you know me for
All gold, crazy, but I got minds out the rolly store
Why you think the junkies always shooting like they Kobe for
Dope too strong, why you think they always OD for
I gave ’em a style, gave ’em a lane, that’s what they owe me for
Put some homies on and gratitude
They ain’t show me at all
Fuck them n*** though bro
Celine tote for my broad, Margiela coat in the fall
Scatter brain, open the jar, y ‘all n*** know who the god
Shit, bitch