Hell on Earth, Pt. 2

[Verse 1: Westside Gunn]
FlyGod
Ayo
Let the kitchen drench, so much remixing, we vicious
Out of Oakland in the Rolls, mightve been one of Felixs
Stuck with the dealers mentality
Bricks on top of squares on the bed, we work for God figure salary
Got the **** stench stuck in the walls, Dior goggles
Win a bag of ****, reeking of C.R.E.A.M
The gold bottle, drinking gold bottles, gun on my hip
Im not a role model, bullets hit the air, Ill make your soul follow
I win the lotto in Tulum, caught him in the shower
Beat him with a mop and broom, his choppers in the locker room
We doing operations, niggas left the zippers
Im in the X-7, whole neck glitter
A cold world make the TEC shiver, dont test that
I be at where you rest at
So many chains on, *****es asking where my neck at (Where your neck at, nigga?)
The band on the TEC black, my nigga blew the trial
Heard he got mad [?] super max
Word is Im diesel like Luger
Turned one to three and yelled 'Hallelujah'
[Chorus: Sample]
Hallelujah, Hallelujah
Were going to see the king, ah, ah, ah
[Verse 2: Benny the Butcher]
Its crazy that Im still talkin yola, made a brick do yoga
I know bout hard white and them ex-con flights to Oklahoma
A pale heart, Im Dale Earnhardt with a smoking motor
Black Sopranos, I took the oath full of Cosa Nostra
Did it my way, I got the most of these culture vultures
You gotta pay me what you owe, or nope, I wont consult ya
Idid more numbers with half your budget, I hope it woke ya
I put a brick on my block and a yacht in the open ocean
The felon, Ive been convicted, irrelevant what Im spending
But what matter is Im doing better than whats predicted
Mm, shouldve got a grammy, nah but **** it though
Cause Royce and Freddie family ties
Frank Lucas video, the Miami vibe, this life crazy
Every minute someone recording you
They ask me if I feel famous now, nigga of course I do
Corporate moves, my office and my business resources grew
Took the long road, you niggas looking for shortcuts through
Expose who, nigga? Im hood as a gold tooth
Hold two joints in the whip when I roll through the toll booth
I heard the albums niggas just put out, yeah those cute
But Im the best, TT3, B.O.P, those proof
The Butcher, nigga
[Verse 3: Conway the Machine]
Look
Jordan pack 5s, gun metal something special
Used to serve yay, wordplay on Big Pun level
Smoke come out the barrel when the gun settled
Most you *******s in Arizona play the field like the Sun devil
I put some diamonds in hund basal, its dumb yellow
I got a shooter in the New York, I call him Young Melo
I got some rope in the trunk, tape and one shovel
Long money, talking billions nigga, and I want several
Aint worried bout them niggas, all them niggas puss
Niggas ****-riding rappers real hard to get a look
I used to hustle on Doat St, the carbon in the bush
Bagging up at this fiend house, she shooting doggie in her foot, agh
I bought some water, watch how salty niggas look
Sneak dissing, same niggas used to call me for a hook, right?
I thought these niggas crooks, why all these niggas shook?
Griselda, we took shit over like how long it really took?
Look, my city is the wildest, I know niggas up in islands
Spin the yard, pull up bar, big as Iguodala
And lately Ive been getting bigger dollars, talking digits with the commas
If its smoke we spinning, ***** I promise
Look, ducking and hiding only get you bigger problems
Cause if it take too long to find you then we visiting your momma, nigga
Yeah, I know them killers up in Dallas
Street nigga for real, boy my trigger finger callused
I see them pictures, them niggas needed stylists
People riding my ****, leaving opinions in my comments, nigga
I get my chef, any career I step on
The **** I look like putting a dress on?
[Outro: Conway the Machine]
You ****ing crazy, nigga?
Machine, *****
Out your ****ing mind, nigga