Tom Chambers

[Intro: Roc Marciano] Don’t get in my way, don’t get in my way Don’t get in my way Get in my way, shots from the AK Shit gon’ spray, if you get in my way Don’t get in my way, don’t get in my way We don’t play, don’t get in my way Get in my way [Verse 1: Roc Marciano] The money green but now it’s blue I'm a phenom, you feed lies to the youth Still rock the cream Filas with the strings loose Don’t think of me when you mention these nincompoops, I’m the truth Hit you and leave you nuked, you could hula-hoop through a Froot Loop The root of all evil’s the love of loot, but brothers wasn’t moved With stacks of hundreds in the duffel you look lovable We ran off to be a couple ‘cause that’s what true lovers do Fuck with no rubbers in the W Can’t trust motherfuckers, they'll bug the room "Why don’t you get comfortable and remove your running shoes?" Run through these new dudes like some food, don’t get stuck in your tubes I can smell the blood in the pool, coming for wounds Change the color of the lagoon hon’ I’m becoming cruel Nothing’s new under the sun and moon It’s rough where I’m from you might wanna take the gun to school Only a fool would assume that these thugs will adjust the rules I’m sorry to bust your bubble but I’m a stubborn mule I refuse to coon for some fuckin’ views Fly your head like a kite Stretch the white when your bread light, breath is life They ain’t salute Max until they gave him seventy-five What good is the credit if you can’t get it while you alive Uh, niggas love to dick ride when you die It’s just props, it ain’t a blow job my guy Pops was wise, watch you idolize You know what they say about a idle mind so don’t hop over the rifle line Nigga Nigga [Chorus: Roc Marciano] Don’t get in my way, don’t get in my way Don’t get in my way, get in my way The shots gon’ spray If you get in my way, don’t get in my way Don’t get in my way [Verse 2: Roc Marciano] When it was 17 a gram, if you shave it right you can make a yard Mix the yay’ with the baking soda to make it hard Michael Goyard on the scarf, that’s a start I play my hands like a card shark, palm the ace of hearts Made my mark without taking part in the dark arts We don’t partake in any cake that’s made with bacon lard In any shape or form, they some broads playing gangster, lord Chains on like whores, puttin' makeup on they flaws If your source is abroad then we all on the same accord No change of coin can put these boys on this train of thought Uh, champagne corks on the court Your old lady play with my balls ‘cause I ain’t wanna make small talk ‘Specially baby not while the game is on Dawg, they say I’m the greatest, it’s not to be taken with a grain of salt Uh, motherfucker that’s a Fendi, I bust my gun ‘til it’s empty 100 round drum, this could be lengthy MC’s are sent to me on one bent knee (kneel) Heavy is the head they said when they met the king Strawberry crush, red promethazine Seventeen different revenue streams I’m a much better pedigree The last thing said to me from a enemy Made me want to bulletproof everything [Interlude: Samples & Knowledge The Pirate] What's that? Ah! Pirate Cost me fifteen grand to bulletproof this car New York Giants, yo Well, it's gonna cost me more [?] bullet Listen [Verse 3: Knowledge The Pirate] The type of shit we on Don't give a fuck about your small town or them little blocks that you hustle on I remain poised, my 40 cal’ make a loud noise All my niggas is cocaine cowboys Don’t make me shoot up your one-horse town Have intercourse with your bitch then drive my Porsche around Have my enforcers lay my gangster down 72 ounces, a few pounds of loud Any drama king keep a streetsweeper to control a crowd Go to your local strip bar, throw a couple thou’ Put some fiends on a corner, have ‘em handing samples out Give your team 36 ounces and tell ‘em break it down When the product’s right and the tick’ is good You might see me in a hooptie, supplying your hood In the kitchen with them fumes Couple fiends, dirty needles and spoons Bitches in different rooms, shittin’ out balloons I don’t think you niggas in tune [Verse 4: Roc Marciano] I’m on a different frequency The streetsweeper don’t fit beneath the seat The spliff we hit it, it was dipped in PCP Thieves stole bricks from the chief’s teepee Fleed the scene but didn’t get off squeaky clean You must be completely green, my hood wild like Cabrini-Green Shit don’t come easy, everything you see is covered with graffiti Your queen rub the meat to summon the genie Being I'm somewhat of a deity, she gon’ kneel to me like these Jesus feet It’s all written, this was preconceived Even a priest gon’ crease his knees to kiss the VV’s and the pinky ring Bonafide hustler but I still chop the shotgun like a buzzcut That’s for when push come to shove You’re thrown under the bus, pretty much It’s litty, this all come from the left titty, bruh