Ritual - AZ, CONWAY THE MACHINE, Lil Wayne

When I rhyme, it’s like the city is mines

Play who?

No label ain’t give me a dime

Came through like if you grateful, this how you really should shine

Flooded Jesus in that grey coupe at the grittiest times

They know me

Since '96, wrist was lit with a Rollie

Speak of bricks?

Been in the mix, ain’t shit you can show me

A king occasionally seen, stay in the wings

Success’ll be when you closer, your folks sprayin' them things in

The Louis mask over the grill

Do the math, ain’t gotta ask, nigga, hold 'em, for real

The omen is sealed, I’m pardoned

Back sucker duckin' and dodgin'

Fire spitter, who could fuck with the arson?

I’m neutral, never frugal, salute you if the feelin' is mutual

Play cuckoo?

Niggas come and

you

The true school, the vet and the ghost involved

Out of respect, still connect with the older gods

It’s no facade, I rep it

My style is perfectin' an epic

Not a blemish, let me finish my breakfast

Look what I did to the pot

Look what I did to the block

Bust the Presi band, fuck it, look what I did to the watch

Look what I did for the game

Look what I did when I dropped

My album kicked in the door, niggas thought was forever locked

I woke them niggas up out they sleep

Bum ass niggas was goin' broke in the Projects tryna figure out how they gon'

eat

See how they gon' speak on me, they know I’m constantly bodyin' beats

Best to come out of the East since Bron in '03 (Talk to 'em)

Machine inspired y’all, I fired off first

The last year numbers alone, I can retire off merch (Facts)

My jacket is

, uh, diamond cross

They say I’m a risin' star, the PJ to fly across Earth (Uh huh)

These are the perks

Require hard work but I acquired more worth

My niggas built the empire off perch (Wooo)

That’s fish and my niggas had bricks of it

Fuck this rap shit, we still good for cookin' pies like a brick oven

Rick Orange trench on, my wrist flooded (Hah?)

Put that drip on and your bitch love it

Blow y’all prints all on my bitch luggage

My neck lookin' like I did Will Smith numbers

I’m gon' be runnin' shit the next six summers

Machine

Uh

Okay

All my blunts

skin

I smell like pussy, money, weed, where is the insense?

I like my drugs intense

Make her pussy lips give my dick a hug and kiss

Finger fuck then fist

I make love then cents

I make her friends kiss

But she don’t let 'em kiss me, she make her friend sick

I make money make money, I make ugly taste lovely

I make money in my sleep and deposit what I wake up with

Got the Draco on, the Gat with the longtail in the back

I might break my arm pattin' my own self on the back

Break the bank like I break the backboard, they call me Shaq

The Feds tried to book me, found out that book was an Almanac

Call me back tomorrow, baby, I’m busy, the work continues

I eat rappers alive and ask for the dessert menu

After the church, send you the casket and dirt hit you

The Nina gon' give you head right after she flirt with you

Wayne, nigga

Put some straightenin' on my name, nigga

Gang, nigga

My track record like a train, nigga

Young Money, let the moolah burn, drip like Lubriderm

I was bumpin' AZ and The Firm when you was a worm, nigga

It’s not a performance, it’s a ritual (It's a ritual)