Lyrics I Shot the King - Roc Marciano

Real nigga play the field with the long.40
Gator coat like a pimp dressed so gordy
Jumpin' out a gold 640 this is his story
Bitch I'm in it for the chips and the glory
The listeners adore me, fly hoes lay before me
You're not fit to put your heel in a Mauri
You're rich but you're still corny
My crib sit by the rock quarry
I'm up twenty five stories
Tied in with the shooters, niggas know the resume
Red Chevrolet, AK, no pepper spray
We shade, see through your image like an X-Ray
Collect a pay where the Mets play
The chain hang by the chest plate, ignorant shit
Quarter million on the wrist
Throw you in the water with the fish
Paint the town, let the cape hang down
Let it spray round, dip the jake
Run the hood, dictate, how my dick taste?
Great, squished grapes, move at a swift pace
Get cake, they imitate, break the template
Like an eighth, the blade hit the freebase
Treat the brick like an inmate face
Run the break like David Wingate
Get your shit straight
Squeeze the fifth like a thick snake
Fixate, nice whips for a rich slave
Bang, brain hang like ding-a-ling
Bring the banger, every day's like a cliffhanger
Tip the waiter, grace like an ice skater
Nice, late night, dice shaker
Meet the maker, price, light paper
Tight, slice pies, I'm a baker
Polite nature, the waves with the light taper
.45 that's a life changer
I swung in on a chandelier
As we sat there on his throne
He turned his head and
Shouted Oh No
Realize the fact
I ain't never comin' back (This some good shit nigga)
I shot the king
I shot the king
Hit 'em up, jump in the truck
Play the cut, caked up
My beige gators got scraped up
Laces up from the [?] corrupt
Lift the cup, your feet go up at the Key Club
Keep the snub, sleep snug
Release slugs while my ladybug steam in the tub
Give me some guns and a mean plug
The team grub, twist the green shrub
Roll a whole dub
Put on the gloves because cut drugs
With the thugs before I had peach fuzz
Movin' on your turf with the good work
Silk shirt, 'Lo quilt, you get killed
Lift a fuck nigga kilt, blood spilled
Hit the milf, left covered in filth
You're dead with the pistol concealed
In the pen field. spin your top like a pinwheel
Sit still nigga chill with' a bitch like Ms. Brazil
It's a feel like a young Lauryn Hill
Cut the body at the sawmill
Every song is a will, my life's on film
I write what I feel, did my time in the field
My mind full of diamonds, it's filled
Sniff the fish in a crisp bill
It's the real, swift with the steel
Kendall Gill with' the pill, I shoot good from the field
Never miss, never will, click your heels
It's a deal, quick get your wig peeled
You got fucked, how the dick feel?