[Verse 1: Action Bronson]
(It's me, yeah)
I'm the supporting actor
The real star be in the jar
She don't want to fuck me
She want to fuck my car
No Matchbox or Tyco
On back blocks I'm like a maestro
You plastic muthafuckas get recycled-
Tap the 5 wagging on the arm
Feet straight from an African rhythm
Mac by the liver, fitted cap with the emblem
You with the cops pointing people out-
What me and my people do, we never speak about-
Leave you leaking out!
I rock more leathers than R. Kelly
Boots and shit, coupes the shit, the roofless shit
You take a dime, I prefer my bitches toothless
That only eating baby food and soup shit
I'm only signing if it's lucrative
You see me shining out in Budapest
With a thick bitch like Lex Luger's neck
Into the water, back first, off the scuba deck
I'm kind of hungry and I ain't never been to Cuba yet
[Big Body Bes]
Yeah you fucking, dirty, little, shit-stain muthafucka, B
You remember me, man
I remember when your moms used to send you to the fucking store, man
For condoms, man
You fucking loser
[Verse 2: Meyhem Lauren]
(Straight up, man, don't try to fucking front when you see us, man)
(We all know what was going on, man)
Yo
[?] spread it out
Leave it gently speckled
We never been the type of niggas dirty bitches heckled
Swerve miraculous, swivel on beats
Late nights might wiggle on freaks
Peace to the bad girls!
Hard bottles, now we walking on air, son
Bottles on deck like a flare gun
What's good, dad?
Ten thousand dollar pets without cages
We grown, fuck acting our ages
Been scholarly
(Straight up, man, keep fucking around, man)
(I'll sell like two of my minks and get you popped with that money, yo)
Foot rubs from sex workers
Fuck work cause checks jerk us
Dicks never dry, stay fly
Lead surplus
Bitches in variety packs
They quietly snatched
Ya'll niggas pay anxiety tax
Get your health right
Wealth wrong, slang correct
Classic fatigues on
Floating, rocking Gucci, Skywalking with these on
You love it so much that your knees torn
It's beautiful
Like push your wig back like a cuticle
I'm killing 'em
This fly shit last forever like a Catholic marriage
Block sales, ox tails with a plate of cabbage
Rock sales ? never rated average
Still dark, stay sharp
Got serrated habits
We play them same blocks that Glocks fried
My niggas bubble white like peroxide
It's critical
Plus we love the streets unconditional
Fucking fat chicks is a ritual
We loves that
[Verse 3: Roc Marciano]
(Marci, uhh)
Rap Pack posse [?]
Suits with bowties
Broke pies, get blowjobs
Gold 5's like a vulture glide
Coke in the liner make a nosedive
My toast is on the side
My sculpture's made of bronze
I play the Fonze
Ate prawns under the canopy
Speaking with parakeets
Brandish heat
Move mechanically
Get to the cabbage casually
Pass the tree
Kneel before me on a ashy knee
The Black James Cagney of the East
Carib-bean feast
Barbarian physique
Bally's is peach
Treasures is buried in the sea
My neck is Eric B
Denzel in Pelican Brief
You're breaded and greased
While I get head on leather seats
Your Greek letters mesh it with the Feta cheese
Aim to please
My steez, Duane Reade
Keep the banger in the sleeve, nigga
Uhhh
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