Lyrics Spirit Cookin - Roc Marciano

Cocked the handle back with one thumb
The Porsche Panamera look like black bumble gum
Bum, send you up, you can touch the sun
Bust it up to past loved ones all you want
I′ve been down this long road more than once
I had to lawnmower over the brush
It's an ongoing fuss
War with daddy the whore′s water bust
Squeeze the pump, slump the water buff
This story's sort of rough like Snow on tha Bluff
You all fluff, I'm built Ford tough
Squashed you like a water bug (Roach)
Cold world, should′ve worn warmed gloves
Stronger drugs ___ more to come
My name tastes like pork on a hater tongue
My uzi weigh a ton
My jewelry weigh a bunch, son
I′m sitting on a bunch of junk like Sanford and Son
I'm watching Tommy Buns on a Samsung
Smoke from the handgun cause cancer on the lung
10,000 grand my Spanish plug with the hair plugs
Sound like music to my eardrums, fuck

You already know, the fuck else
It′s me

When I threw the rifle in the river
It look like Bol Bol was diving in the river
All this Spanish champagne drowning up my liver
Money, I can't take it to the grave with me
Spot me on the beach in a strange Jeep
My girl get busy like Zhang Weili
You better off with dengue fever
I place first in a hundred meter medley
Thirty xanny bars couldn′t settle me
I put a gold machete on a baby registry
Allegedly, it's time to check ___
Keep the bow and arrow right next to me on a leather seat
For any man that want test me, you lose a teste
And I wear it as a earring while I jetski
Control the range like I got seven hands
Glance in the mirror look like John Cougar Mellencamp, god damn
It′s just a heart throb
Turn key, activate the car bomb
Take your head off like Balrog
Coming soon to a theater near you
Mr. Baklava starring in a drama called Crocodile Soup