[Verse 1: Roc Marciano] Uh
You f*ck niggas know the drilly
About to take the company public for half a billy
Niggas is silly
My neck and wrist chilly
This Marc’, baby
Forget what you think
My bitch’ll get in sync
Give it a wink
She puts some shit in your drink
Wake up
No ring and missing link
?This the sting?
Niggas stink
I bought my thing to iron out the kinks
Wake up, ?don’t even blink, King?
This a thinkingman’s game
I had to rub some Ben Gay on my ?penpiece?
Crackheads ?stinky leg on the ledge?
?was bred on corners
Where they said they shot “Cornbread”
Alkaline water bed
I’m whipping up this soft but they ain’t order eggs
Chef up a quarter brick
Call this the corner shit
If I see you balling kid
Just call it quits then
That’s how shit is
You either sink or swim champ
Catch you slipping fam
Catch you while getting kicks at Jimmy Jazz
You can tell I’m a pimp
I got pretty hands
They forcin that on us
I call ?foursome? [?] This is real sauce
Don’t put salt on it
Dope is pure
You walked on it
The Rolls Royce Corniche look like a hornet
The seats resemble corn mix
Baby, that’s something light to hit corners with

[Chorus: Roc Marciano]

Diamonds dancing on my hand and wrist
I ain’t rhyming unless the cannabis is lit
I ain’t lyin
I’m just handling my biz
I’m just handling my biz
The door panel of the Benz
It’s on the panel of the Benz
The door panel of the Benz
Marc’, nigga

[Verse 2: Roc Marciano]

Check it

From slinging work
?Did a gang of dirt?
Now the diamonds hang on my shirt
That’s life and I later learned
Shouldn’t have taken that old lady’s purse
?The time that the tables turned
I’m hurt
The payment’s returned
And to whomever it may concern
I pray one day it reimburse
Can’t hit reverse and pay for things that I ain’t earned
I heard the herb was dipped in sherm
?Bitch’s? vision blurred
German engines purr like leopards
Couldn’t get a gig at Eckerd
They said my past was checkered
My ghetto pass is good
I never had to check it
I eat your food and then go back for seconds
What’s that, chicken?
Fix me a plate
Bring me a wing and breast, I beckon
Get out my kitchen
Be glad I’m back messing with it
This is medicine for niggas
Ain’t never should’ve let us in the building

Marc’, nigga


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  1. hesse

    January 23, 2021 at 7:26 pm

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