paroles de chanson Move Dope - Roc Marciano

All these rappers out here, rapping about the horror thing
They got that from the pimp
They got that from the movies
They got that from the pimps, you know
They're not pimps
(They're not pimps at all?)
Rappers are rappers
Pimps are pimps
Dope dealers are dope dealers
Hoes are hoes, real ones
The real shit is the real shit
(Rosebud)

It is what it is, fuck what it could have been
Read the bulletin, you just some shit to put some bullets in
Fill the clips, you push this in
Look what I did here with a book and pen
Might stomp you, leave a Gucci footprint
They groom the pimp to Bergdorf Goodman
The handle on the burner wooden
Nigga, ain't no what-ifs
It's all real, there ain't no other way to put it
Niggas pussy, they don't wanna see us masked up and hooded
Niggas better off sneak dissin'
If we was kids I might send you home with ya sneakers missin'
Listen B, don' leave your bitch with me, she easy pickings
Fo sheezy, I do you greasy like Chinese chicken
Smoke blunts back to back, wore hunchback
The bag made the bungee cord snap
Pull up the foreigns with my gorgeous ass
My smile's porcelain, my hood's a gauntlet
Be like them my shit more lit, it's orange (Glowing baby!)
I'ma say this once and once only
I'm a control freak
I got mind control over freaks
Two hands to secure the mag, dog it's on
You just pray we don't cross paths, scorch your ass
Moisture splash on the dash you jackass
I'm just crackin' crabs thanks to all the crackheads
Y'all niggas might need A&Rs
Spray ARs at quasars, you was made with a paper heart
The purple haze in a mason jar
What you take me for, some waiter with a tablecloth?
My sable hang to the floor
The velour I wore is made by Liz Claiborne
Listen baby doll, you get what you paid for

Feel like I got a license to move dope
I feel like I got a license to move dope
I feel like I got a license to move dope

Niggas pull the plan and start spraying shit
You don't care who you aim and hit, what you an atheist?
Maybe its the AP that lay on the wrist
My leather avi' soft as baby shit
Cop the Range threw the Mercedes in for 80 cent
Move like a kingpin from '86
I'm all covered up with gator and mink
The pump shottie made your body stink, I'm linked
There's no honor amongst thieves or camaraderie
Small 2 5's in the sleeve surprisingly
You ain't awake to see them gangstas made of ivory
My three-eight's my gangsta ID
You can't hide what the naked eye see
Jamaican lady whine for me
Two biscuits like it's time for tea
I'm like Ice-T times three, drop 'em somewhere to die in peace
Let's set the record straight, you date hoes on Section 8
My sexual mates, they own real estate
I'm everything you niggas ain't