Lyrics of ' Soulja Boy (feat. Conway The Machine) ' by Rome Streetz

Would you read us a bedtime story?
Passed me the pistol
Bam, I look through the door
I see like three, four niggas
Conductor, Conductor, Conductor
Yeah-yeah
Yeah, check, ayo

Being fucked up for years, locked in the box is not the goal
I figured out the flip, I turned a pot of piss to pots of gold (I did)
Life a gamble like a dice roll at the Bellagio
I got the glow, big bottom hoes wanna top me slow
And buy me shit like I'm Kenny Redd, my life phenomenal
Still the same screw-faced youth that pull a nine on you
My name ring from east to west like a line of longitude
The dope dirty, cut with Fent', he died off of a line of food
Garbage dudes couldn't shine my shoes, always knew
It'd speak volumes when you come up crazy off making silent moves
Jail was hell, somehow I found heaven in the solitude
Kept a scalpel, number eleven, front, then I'm oxin' you
Living rapid, mommy told me slow down like chopped and screwed
On the road to riches, keep a four pound for obstacles
In the inner pocket of my mobster suit
Where I'm from a bum'll kill you over a crumb and not lots of loot
The homie told me stay off 50 like it's '04
Even the smartest niggas tryna know more, wisen up
Nigga died with his eyes open, he wasn't live enough
My bitch bad as fuck, body smokin', still'll line you up
Like the ruler, mind on money making maneuvers
Never make the news again, my legal shooter'll do ya
The Ruger spit fire like King Koopa, you niggas losers
Bow and kiss the ring, I got this rap thing in a stupor (yo)

Billy in the back seat hype, I let him hold the toy
He hopped out wildin', shooting crazy like Soulja Boy
Got him in the frame, snapped his shots, not a Polaroid
Thousand words I'd never said to the pigs, keep it closed for sure
Billy in the back seat hype, I let him hold the toy
He hopped out wildin', shooting crazy like Soulja Boy
Got him in the frame, snapped his shots, not a Polaroid
Thousand words I'd never said to the pigs, keep it closed for sure (yeah)

Them niggas pussy, they some hoes for sure
This grown man business, little nigga close the door (fuck off)
Os to snort leave noses sore
No Fenty in them bricks, the whole load was pure
Yeah, seven figures what I grossed from tours
Buffalo nigga got it feeling like the old New York
Sent lawyer money to the bro, he gotta go to court
They tryna give him seven, he got knocked with a pole before
I can look at you and tell you never sold a brick in your life
And we know you soft, you ain't living the shit that you write
You so timid, it's like, who even considered you nice?
Stop that nigga, twenty bands and I do tricks on the dice
Uh, Clase Azul, I mix with the Sprite
Head from two bitches, same time, that's the shit that I like (woo)
Uh, my future just like my vision, it's bright
I know it gotta suck, you niggas live a miserable life (ha)
I ain't friendly with these rap niggas, I ain't Mr. Polite
I ain't gon' give you advice
I'ma watch your soul leave your body when I dig in my knife
FN kiss 'em goodnight, nigga that's light (machine)

Someone comes up and says something like, I am a God
Everybody says, Who does he think he is?
I just told you who I thought I was, a God