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roc marciano - slingers lyrics

feat. knowledge the pirate

come take a walk
on my side of the dark side!
while n-gg-s do walk-by’s and
drive-by’s.
hundred counted slinging bing-pies
and the bow ties
made by the fight, sittin’ ring side
this is where the killers reside
the drug dealers collide
and martin luther king’s dream died
trum was 15 and cut the green five
at 16 moved out the projects to the east side
moved to the upper east island, (???)
trum was young and flied with mob ties
filled old sweat she (???)
blue swinggin’ like a bee hide
i’m bout to drop 6 jump to the g5
dropped out some guys in the projects
on the west side
so, what’s a g’s knee high?
for five stuff in the (???)
the other one’s for c.s.i.
investigated by homicide
wanted by the f.b.i.
the murderer for c.i.
could never get to testify
so it felt like the case may turn
to the trunk shut in the face
f-ck y’all asking questions for, man?
you know i’m half innocent
come take a walk through these blocks
with c-ke dope police spots
gun’s cop ready to squeeze half
huh, these happen as youngen’s free stop
gun shots from most of roof top
murder prize for that money is in the shoe box
come take a walk in these blocks

i’m a slinger, set fire on the finger
crib in antigua, my trigger man wa’ a seater
sicilian, not a square like a square (???)
my man, i’m a rare creature,
dipped the police test sniker
my n-gg-‘s whole feet like a fever
from here it’s all down hill like a skier
round the whips up, talk to sirians and the asirians
lil’ katiue with her fake t-tties
sipping remy on the rocks
mind clear when the air is chilly
player willie got jammed out in philly
slit him open like a fillie
full of fluiwy
we find one trunk in missouri
all smelly
so this is all flesh
(???)
i haven’t p-ssed, not to mention the mess
just march with the less
triple legs, soup less
on the roof, momma, i’m a zeus head
the coup’s wet, the crew still moves my tools shed
this is proof, not bullet
introduce deuce in a pool by the lake
fly shoe head spread, guns run the bread,
sunday the bed, plus a couple in the duffle bag
take a better look, apart from the cook
(???) handle one in the foot
still play it by the book
the gray top’s bottled up
my hood swallows it up
what the f-ck?

- roc marciano lyrics

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