Roc Marciano - Covid Cough Lyrics

Lyrics Covid Cough - Roc Marciano



Niggas play around til it′s man down
I'm the illest nigga hands down
Air ′em out, air 'em out
Niggas play around til it's man down
I′m the illest nigga hands down
Air ′em out, air 'em out
You know what we came for
You know who gave the whore the cocaine jaw
What′s all the shade for
The numbers on the three eighty was shaved off
Thirty shots sprayed off
Take you off like a stray dog
Your days are short like your Range sport
Pop an Ace of Spades champagne cork
Paint your brain on the wall off forty bulldog
My airsoft knock a eyeball out your skull
Flush you out that hole you been hiding in
You high on the list, the homies gon' fly your wig
Oh you must′ve forgot I'm rich, I′m a project kid
And you my next project, kid
Been should'vе had you fixed
Should've had you a wrench
A drill bit, shit I ain′t did a drill in a bit
Givе ′em a clip, bet he squeal like a pig
Life's a bitch, tried to throw grits on a pimp and missed
Your shit is like ten percent diss
Niggas is lit like a tennis link
Daddy you haven′t said anything
With the pen they say I'm Hemingway, I′m a heavyweight
I'm better than niggas in every way
The Sky Dweller is Perrier
This the cherry on the cake
You most definitely getting spanked
After the gank, your old lady engage in hanky-pank
I′m in her pussy doing the stanky leg
How you don't love me like the wind do?
You headphones, I'm hands-on
In and out the way I handle, huh
You flirtin′ with them candles, uh
You lookin′ lady-like, pussy tryna swim with the sharks
Nigga we navy height, barely seen but platinum and gold
Nigga I'm really nice, the gat peeled, the white dove rose
I can make butter fly, I don′t have the time like those
Rather make mothers cry, the hit make her slid down home
Because I'm certified, bonafide to knock-knock door
Tell me why homicide did numbers swab my teeth like gold
Nigga I rap a lot, spin your block, you dry snitchin′ on the gram, you half a cop
I'm in the game, you tryna share my stats huh
I grab the drum out the backpack then boom-bap that
Yeah, normally I use it just to scratch my back, uh
Don′t gotta hang with rappers when your contract's maxed, uh
Don't need a hundred niggas when you built like that
Let′s get it, talkin′ out your ass, you must got me confused
'Cause I will not lose, I got nothing to prove
I sold 20, made 20, I′m in the shadow of who?
I'm in the battle with who? That nigga sweeten my tooth
Just a rock in my shoe, can′t stumble my groove
Must I humble this dude, bruh I pity the fool
You can't sit at my table, can′t be in my room
Just a must in my pits tryna swing from my dick
Just a but when I flick, Wagyu when I pick
Just a burp when I'm drunk, you the ash from the blunt
It don't matter the clumps, all you niggas is lunch
I′m really one of the ones, I can never be done
I′m ___
Covid, nigga



Writer(s): Roc Marciano, Schoolboy Q


Roc Marciano - Mt. Marci
Album Mt. Marci
date of release
30-11-2020




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