[Intro: SLV_Sounds & Roc Marciano]
It's raining, wo-oah
It's pouring, yes, Lord... ha!
Gotta get some of the rain
Drug sale right there, look out... drug sale...
WHAT DA HELL?
NO WAAAYEEAYAAAAAAAAY-EEEHEEEHEEE!
Aw, man, it's lit
Uh, check me
[Verse 1: Roc Marciano]
Body the kid with the cauliflower ears out here like he the Karate Kid
Knocked out his choppers, he probably gotta get Poligrip
The polymer shotty grip
Too big to pull a robbery with, can't afford to get sloppy and miss
Pop the clip in the choppy like it's a IBM with a floppy disk
The new FN that I copped from Rick, you can fit it inside a microchip
The more chips I get, thoughts of getting chipped
Often cross my wig, but I been known to overthink
You out here with too much dip on your chip
In my expensive fit, somehow I'm still a misfit; I guess it's hit or miss
Uh—maybe I am a dick (Maybe)
I insist to piss in the lobster bisque
Hock spit, pussy, pussy-footing's not a good look for me
I was looking to sink my hooks in a freak but all a hooker need is two good feet, look
You way too busy playing footsie underneath the table
But it was just a waste of some good eats
Fatigue from running in and out these boutiques, Ma, it's just my routine
They slept on me, but it obviously wasn't beauty sleep
This nigga's face'll be looking spooky; I'm bougie
Your bitch is twisted like the Coogi
I'm in the Jacuzzi screwing the cooler on the Uzi
Remove your jewelry, smoothly; the jubilee was cheap as a Tubi movie
Uh—put you on the news feed
Bottega Louie, I'm a foodie
Uh, yo
[Verse 2: Errol Holden]
680 Benz crazy tinted, the hazards is blinking into a labyrinth I'm sinking
A hole inside another hole, [a wormhole?] on top of another hole, the mold on the ceiling
Just make me say things, I attract the unknown and create things
Down Mulberry Silk Road I stroll
Where my lyrics scroll is clear, I'm here to turn base metals to gold
Mix Larone with Arne Quinze Champagne palms, you been swinging
I been swinging for the fences on benches
Situated in the jade
Tokyo J's, yellow suede, Thanksgiving Day parade, crowds full of Jade
Swirling around the dwelling I colonized
Monetized dust use
Is this truly yours or hundred-year-old drawers?
Y'all raid in front of me
My condolences to the fridge and go the bonuses, the onus is all mine
War time attire, chariots of fire, I sit in
Deep blue ribbon chicken, no mercy on the spitten
Wait, look from a different vantage point
[Outro: Errol Holden & [?]]
Alpaca wools... cotton... and... and... you mean to tell me none of this shit intrigues you? Like, you know, all these vintage leather looking sneakers and beautifully handcrafted shoes? All these different...
So what do you say to the people that be like, 'Yo, what does it matter?'
I say nothing to them. Cause we have nothing in common
I mean... I mean, you know, you gotta... listen man... ain't nothing like... listen homie, there's nothing like garments... and fragrances and good food and good company... you know
Good socks man, I iron my drawers man. It's a fact. I iron my drawers man. Cause they feel better when you put them on. I'm about this shit for real man. Fuck about what nobody saying. You ain't got to understand this shit. Not from... not from... not from my vantage point"
[Sample: "I don't know who to blame..."]
[Sample: "There's a burning in my eyes that I can't explain..."]
READ MORE ABOUT ROC MARCIANO
