Lyrics of ' Off-White Lumberjack (feat. Boldy James) ' by Conductor Williams

(Conductor)
You already snow that (227)
(Ahahaha)
It's Bo Jack (The living legend)
Let's get it (A legend in two sports)

To be or not to be, crime school, and I majored in philosophy (That's major)
Band proctor with drums, got a doctor's in criminology (Drum roll)
Razorin' the hard for that color money, Monopoly (Razor Ramon)
Gazin' at the stars in that Cullinan, that's astrology (Double-R)
Dingy T-shirt, a hunnid stacks, Sara Lee, high velocity (A hunnid)
Flip the work with a money-back guarantee, that's the policy (No hassle)
Soccer mom full of parakeets (Get away), Cherokee obsolete (A relic)
All of this Valentino drip, I feel like Bobby V (Yeah)
Golf caddyin' with the pack, I'm on my Johnny P (On my bing)
Bro just copped a pill press, pressin' up them Chinese Vs (Press)
Ninety Gs in the sofa cushion came from overcookin' (Ayy)
All this dope I'm pushin', fuck your label, I should sign to fiends (Fuck it)
It's real Mafia, what else? Roll the credits behind the scenes (Roll it)
Whole lotta gang shit, big chains and diamond rings (Big gang)
Ebony and ivory, my niggas in the Ivy League (Ayy)
Smellin' like new money, Creed, Baccarat and Irish Tweed (New money)
Let's get it (No new niggas)

My English broken and my plug don't speak no Inglés (Ayy)
He know I keep some motion like I'm sellin' dope on eBay (It's only us)
I run it up then run it back just like a replay (Run it)
Never been a runner-up, been runnin' laps, this shit a relay (Run it up)
My Creatures toastin' in the club with all the leeway (Ayy)
Been trappin' through the wire all my life, I feel like Wee-Bey (Boldy Blocks)
When I was callin' home from county on a three-way (Let's get it)
But now me and my Creatures pourin' Wocky on a PJ (227)
Let's get it (Mafia, what else?)

Went from the PJs to the PJ (Ayy)
Rockin' buffs, genuine horn, these ain't no Miches (No, not at all)
Spin them chirps like a turntable, go, DJ (Go, DJ)
It take money to make money, that's so cliché (Speedin' it up)
Totin' Glock, 357, stirrin' up a pot (Rrah, rrah)
No rebates on this shit I'm sellin', hurry up and buy (No rebates)
It's ConCreatures, 227, fuck the FBI (Gang)
I'ma get this money off the fent' till the well run dry (It's Blocks)
Eight-hundred grams in the vent, tryna trail my driver (Eight-hunnid)
Made a mountain out a molehill, I'm the real the MacGyver (I'm that one guy)
Turn your block into roadkill, ambitions as a grinder (Ayy)
Hook, line, sinker, trap his keeper like a book binder (ConCreatures)
In the hood with the shottas, puffin' on the good ganja (Ayu)
Been fucked up in the head ever since they took Tonya (My baby)
47-hundred block, spot doin' jumpin' jacks (Yeah)
Retro Mike & Ikes, off the Off-White lumberjack
Let's get it