Lyrics Already - Roc Marciano

We doubled up
While them younger sluts play double dutch
My new Mac 11 came with the muzzle on the front
Nigga this ain't no front
My taste buds trump your flavor of the month
Rappers can't fuck with me you can't name one
I paid a lump, the table spun
I dip my blunt in angel dust
The gauge pump, turn your brain to mush
The slug'll make your potato bust
Imagine what that Draco does
Give you a halo, while i'm sniffin' yayo off of J-Lo butt
It made a playa face go numb
Beefin' with me and mine'll lead to E.Coli
You're not bonafide, them hoes I just bone and slide
I had a moment, sky open
You not potent, ibuprofen
This is heroin that brown
Not that yellow shit they steppin' all over it
If you look close you can see the Louis loafer print
Some nigga put his toes in this shit
No shit, it's over wit'
Ho this is showmanship
Shootouts with foes, yo lord hold up, I think my shoulder hit

Think I'm hit nigga, shit
Say word, you caught one lord? Let me see
That's a shoulder wound my nigga, shit went straight through, you good
Let's go

Get back
Don't think you can't get cli-dapped where you livin' at
Fast, I put a nigga in a trick bag
And send you to yo' momma gift-wrapped
That's where I'm at, we gon' kill your ass
How real is that?
How real is that?
Get 'em back

Feast or famine
I'm by the sea tannin'
Female companion speaking Mandarin
You get a glimpse of me the freaks is clamorin'
I'm in Miami wearing your rent on a pair of kicks
And that depend on where you live
I'm thinking somewhere near the Calvin Klein underwear heir
Fresh to death, they thought a nigga slept in Tupperware
This the upper tier, this for the puppeteers
Run your career with just the muscles in my hand
Might even push your shit back but I don't cut hair
Peel with the toast, melt just like a fucking butter square
You ain't nothing but a square you bum
You just here sucking up air
My right hand steer like Duh Duh Man
I'm good money, lil' buddy I'm no Huggie Bear
I have you in Huggies just like the ones a pet monkey wear
Fuck outta here
You a college kid, we share no common thread
This shit Prada not Doma brand
I'm just sayin'
No disrespect, this shit just cost a lot of bread
I'm on your head

Get back
Don't think you can't get cli-dapped where you livin' at
Fast, I put a nigga in a trick bag
And send you to yo' momma gift-wrapped
That's where I'm at, we gon' kill your ass
How real is that?
How real is that?
Get 'em back