Conway, Benny & Westside Gunn Freestyle on Flex | Freestyle #060

[Verse 1: Benny]
Got 'em on us in the club, the staff just didn't search us
Ratchet chicks in skirts with ratchets in they purses
Big sh*t, I walk up clappin' sh*t in person
Y'all pack them little burners, those accidental murders
Grind to get money, that's a n*gga's purpose
100 'til they lower my casket in the surface
Cross paths with a serpent, I'm blastin' it for certain
They only shoot back when they rap they little verses
When these rappers meet me, half these n*ggas nervous
Prayin' I don't snap and wrap 'em in a curtain
Guilty 'cause they life don't match up with them verses
Half them n*ggas worthless, we actually put the work in
Know dope boys who drove E-class with a permit
That's brick talk, you need karate classes to interpret
I'm out in L.A. in traffic with the lurkers
Smokin' moon rocks in the back of a Suburban
Hittin' licks, broad day with the neighbors watchin'
Had us lock playin' spades with the table hostage
Beefin' with the cable watchers
Cause Golden State played the Rockets
And we gon' risk our date to watch it
I'm on seafood.. and plates of pasta
I feel like Dr. Dre mixed with Frank Sinatra
I'm Mayweather, you Mc
Gregor, I'll explain the concept
I'ma show n*ggas brawlin' ain't the same as boxing
That's why I mention how good I am at cookin' a brick
Went so deep in the game, understood, I couldn't repent
Stood on the strip, P-89 full to the tip
These bullets are swift, probably gon' lift the hood of ya whip
Made n*gga, I ain't never been belittle before
Y'all shakin' with them n*ggas in the middle of war
You a street n*gga, gotta keep a pistol assort
Then quicker you lost and learn how to forget what you saw, uhh
Talkin' straight hustlin', tryin' to park the Wraith stuntin'
Left the game, a lot of n*ggas ain't get to walk away from it
I'm talkin' graves, n*ggas walkin' off from state numbers
He been down since kids, awful when he call to say somethin'
What you know about shavin' off a great substance
Brick of white girl, I call it Kate Hudson
I do this for the kids who starve and ate nothin'
And had to rock off brand just 'cause they fathers ain't hustlas
This year I'ma make y'all n*ggas really respect me
Told West "I gotta eat, you gotta really connect me!"
If I'm wrong, sh*t, which one y'all gon' really correct me?
If Conway catch the body, guess who gettin' accessory
I really had work when it dried up in the streets
Maybe that's why I rhyme like Nas before Kelis, uhh
Shots missed, two bullets lodged up in the seats
We smoke backwoods 'til it fog up in the Jeeps
Same rappers that you enjoy, I came to destroy
Snatch the Louie off the rack soon as I came in the store
I'm a shady individual that Shady employ
I run through ya whole team like Shady Mc
Coy, ahhh

[Verse 2: Conway]
Machine, look, look
Champion rap, the title was in my hands
Take over the game, since my arrival that's been the plan
The streets love me, the legends sayin' that I'm the man
Know you doin' somethin' right when your idols become ya fans
Damn, but this just results of my hunger
9 under the shark head, tell 'em it's my summer
Bentley trucks, 5 colors
We don't ride hummer
40 on my lap while I ride, go 'head, try and run up, hahaha
Look, I used to pump raw sh*t
Streets made my young boy crazy, he done lost it
I green light it, he empty his gun cartridge
See a rapper's SUV and Young Dolph it
Conway, Westside, we young bosses
Watch your mouth 'fore your mustache get punched off it, n*gga
Can't f*ck with none of this raw sh*t
pus*y, go find a bridge and jump off it
Made it this far 'cause we really do the work
See the tiger on the collar of the tail Gucci shirt
Trust me, I'm still in the field
My field boots in dirt
Million dollar deals, so what, I'm still shootin' first
No n*gga can match the level of skill when I peel through a verse
You n*ggas dressin' like Lil' Uzi Vert, whoa
I'm a legend, it's stamped
GxFR, you'll never get ahead of the camp
Went to the Bay, sent the cookie in (?) stamp
Now I'm winnin' out in Oakland like Kevin Durant, my n*gga
Haha, king Louie with the wax under
Judge tryin' to give my n*ggas Max numbers, ouuu
Ex-crack pumper, MAC dumper
I was just in Cali tryin' to get the low pack numbers
Interscope got me signin' contracts with max numbers
Might count the money on Instagram like Blac Youngsta
You lil' whores
My b*tch don't Michael Kors, she like Dior
Might send her to buy the store
I write the raw, offensive lines, I'm Michael or
Pen glide across these foul lines, I'm Michael Jordan
I like to brawl, I slide my big knife across ya windpipe it tore
What you f*ckin' with a psycho for?
Aww, I just wanna provide you
With the grimiest music all summer to ride to
I don't do the sneak dissin', boy, I'm comin' to find you
And emptyin' my gun when it slide through
You know it's real when all the real n*ggas runnin' behind you
And all the top record labels wantin' to sign you
My uncle said, "Boy, stay humble", I tried to
But you know when it's your moment, it's just somethin' inside you
I mean, a wig shot in my neck bled
I still became the best rapper alive on my death bed
Yeah, drinkin' Spade, eatin' chef dreads
"Bro, kill all of these n*ggas", that's what West said
Thinkin' back, 17, dumpin' TEC lead
Only hit one n*gga in his left leg
Ever since then shootin' like Steph
Lead flyin' out the Heckler, a n*gga gettin' left dead
Lex said "Your verse on Statik, got n*ggas mad at you"
And now every so and so wanna battle you"
That sh*t is laughable
Tell them n*ggas go (?) and do an album in a classic day
And tell 'em I'll get back to you, Machine n*gga