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roc marciano - here i am lyrics

[intro]
chef up for this n-gga
why don’t you throw me some baking soda
some eggs too
yeah n-gga
hm

[verse 1]
uh, we chef’ing up
who you think you impress when you dressing up? (uh)
stick your chest out you get your breast cut
get off my left nut
i pull a 7 up
ya’ll ain’t said much
my young n-ggas head hunt
have your sh-t looking like egg foo young (mmmm)
ya’ll finished or ya’ll done?
i might done you with the small gun
my man brung the drum
let’s give the drummer some
rum-pum pum pum
i let a hot one run in your c-mmerbund
blood was all on his tux b-ttoned up
his buddies thought he might eat a few, he was muscular
but he didn’t, finish
i had the mask on
i had to just lift it to let him know who did this (i did this)
i ate your food, it was delicious
my haitian b-tch, she doing voodoo with the chickens
pinky ring and cartier ingot king sh-t
full length mink sh-t, sipping pink sh-t (yeah)
fly shooters in from kingston with the things gripped
itchy trigger finger tips, two gucci wingtips
all my jewelry clean b-tch
you see this sh-t?

[interlude]
you see me?
check me out
check me out b-tch
n-gga i’m back
marc baby
charge for interviews too
yeah, five bands
just to sit down
and bust it up
f-ck out of here

[verse 2]
uh, hate it or love it i’m just laying in comfort
i made the punches in the rubber tim duncans
i did my numbers while you was in the tub with rubber ducklings (uhhh)
i was on some rubber glove sh-t
pumping fish, pockets lumpy like pufferfish
the pump was in the truck, my leather looking like pumpkin skin
we hustled in the comfort inn, i still got one foot in
this is my life, look how wonderful it is
bulletproof the benz, this rosebudd’s revenge
this where your road ends, i put that on my gold rolex
who knows what’s next
i’m here with moguls sniffing c0ke on the desk
i never copped my blow compressed, it stretched, it stretched
silk windbreakers and bm’s racing
maybe they ???? like jason statham
paper chasing, ducati shades for aviation, out the atrium
they say he a pimp, get money out a b-tch off a corner like a atm (hahaha)
get money out a b-tch out the corner like a atm (hahaha)

[outro]
yeah boy, can’t make no sh-t up
don’t ever get it f-cked up boyee
pimpstead boyee
sh-t is jewlery n-gga
could wear this n-gga
could wear my rhymes boyee

- roc marciano lyrics

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