Verse 1: Conway the Machine:

Uh, 40 leave you n***as slumped (Boom boom!)
Pussy, you gon' need a bigger gun (Hah)
I let off the drum and watch you n***as run
And scream like bitches when the magazine spittin', hold up (Brrrrr!)
I'm cut from a different cloth (Cap)
I could look at you and tell that you n***as soft (You pussy, n***a)
Hah, drop a bag and get you n***as all (Cap)
I ain't gotta lift the finger I just made the call (Green light)
Hm, if it's an issue let it be known (What's poppin', homie?)
Shot him in the ribs broke three bones (Hold that, pussy)
Every week a hundred P's gone (Ahahaha!)
Razor slide across a n***a cheekbones

Verse 2: Banish:

Look, steppin' out up in that Onda wearin' off-white (Off-white)
Catch these fuckers frontin' then it's on sight (Alright)
She already know it's gon' be a long night
Little stoner rub by that bitch she lovin' that long pipe (Take it)
A man's in them? had a plan they had to cancel that plot
'Fore they got caught with more shots than the Denzel got
Like what the fuck is this new rap business I won't get it, these lames is bad trannies
I can tell out the gate that they bitches (Yeah, hahahaha...)
Put this muzzle on you if you keep yappin'
Don't know what happen say I'm trappin' actin' about out that action (Listen)
I got a dozen for you and I don't gotta chase far
It's whatever they want 'cause I got more gauges than a racecar (Uh)
Chorus: Banish:

So listen fonds, and watchin' you bitches run
I ain't done without a collection of solid gold guns, (brrrrrr), uh
Solid gold guns (Boom boom, boom boom)
Yeah, solid gold guns
You fools is bums, already know I'm not the one
I ain't done without an arsenal of solid gold guns, (brrrrrr), uh
Solid gold guns (Boom boom, boom boom)
Yeah, solid gold guns

Verse 3: Supreme Cerebral:

Yo, sick 'em all while these witness stand socks (The flyest)
Do a n***a dirtier than ham hocks?
Beam on your white tee look like the flag Japan got (Brra!)
You have-not, you ain't worth the incoil in my hand cap (Facts)
AR soundin' like a drumroll (Brrrrr!)
Fashion game got these bitches gung-ho (Uh)
Winchester tuck, shit, she know a n***a hung low (Ah)
Dumb hoe, my basement lookin' like I'm runnin' gun shows (Braa!)
Shoot outs in broad day, send ya to them Pearly Gates (Uh)
Razor in my mouth like Birdywaite
The thirty eight, will permeate, and surely take the burnin' fate of learnin' hate
And knowin' that I'm showin' faith to increase the murder rate (Braa!)
Verse 4: Recognize Ali:

Uh, I put the toaster to a n***a dome (Recognize)
Then tell him where the bread, or he fuckin' gone
Flyin' daggers, Katana blades, or a toughly hols
Got his home, tell a king that I'mma need his throne
Straight up gorilla style, my killers wild, you bitches bow
Today I should catch a body, shit, it's been a while
Look, I sex raw, with a French whore
Pink lingerie, send color, than the French war
Go to war like Saladin make n***as rest in hearse
You lose a hand from pullin' out your weapon first
Banish hit me, told me "God, I need a second verse" (Please God, please God)
With him and Conway on the track, you meet your second death!

Chorus