paroles de chanson Amethyst - Roc Marciano

Let's go
Olive green Bally windbreaker to wet my taste buds
Y'all hatin' niggas praying for table crumbs
Damn, ya'll looking bad, y'all might be mistaken for bums
My first thought was to put some spare change in your cup
Here's a blanket, least you'll be covered up
I'm becomin' numb
I don't feel the love at night, I hug my guns
Might touch you with the same razor I use to cut my drugs
Homie, these blades ain't made for shavin', son (nah)
The snub is stainless,
The yay is white like Shia LaBeouf, I weighed it
Liposucked the plug, left 'em weightless
Niggas on the waitin' list, look at your grayed-up wig
What is that, a wave kit? Listen baby, don't shake the ship
Still, they assist, shit's scaring away the fish
I'm a playa
Son, I'm just sitting here sharing game with pimps
Bitch tried to throw a big monkey wrench in my Benz vent
I find it interestin' I was chillin'
Just when they thought the engine went
I still did it big (did it big)
Pick of the litter but no kittens here
I'm like Huey Newton sitting in the
King's wicker chair with the pistol near
My face is chisled in the silverware with care (uh)
Spilling Belaire on the thread I wear, I'm a threat out here
You better not let the cat out for air, yeah
Uh, I'm a threat out here
You better not let the cat out for air, yeah

I've been high and low
It's gotten simple
One thing I always know
Don't let myself go (stay on my shit, Marc)
Y'all stay sleep; you only dreamin'
That's why I'll never lose (yeah)
I keep my gun close (uh, come on, keep it)
Screamin' fuck the other side (fuck them niggas, yeah)
Ain't no love, it's us alive
As long as you don't fuck with my dime, dime

Uh, uh, always had a scheme to get by,
In the cream FILA for them green guys
True indeed, I might eavesdrop at the cheeba spot
When I'm in need of gwop with the fake beard like ZZ Top
Your bitch in the V with me, it's easy top
Stop, don't get your zucchini popped
I disappear like Houdini, Ma, in the blue DB9
It's moving easy, right?
Dreamy like CGI, uh
Up in the Babylon,
Caught one in the arm like Al Pacino, why did I have cappuccino?
Fifty shot clip in the drum, no need to reload
Frontin' like I won't come and pop one in your knee bone, uh
I lied, I'm not a pimp, I'm more like a mack
The gun's worn in the small of my back
Wash the money from the raw off at the laundromat, it's the format, uh
The Range Rover Sport all black
I'm all that, the whole ball of wax
For the bag I give you one where you store the most fat
Shot lil mama in the ass... pap!