
Flash Gordon Roc Marciano
On this page, discover the full lyrics of the song "Flash Gordon" by Roc Marciano. Lyrxo.com offers the most comprehensive and accurate lyrics, helping you connect with the music you love on a deeper level. Ideal for dedicated fans and anyone who appreciates quality music.

[Production by The Alchemist]
[Verse 1]
Used to have to pitch
Now I print cash with the BiC
The pad is a blank check
Embrace death, taste flesh
While the rhyme on the page is still wet
Far from fictitious
The cars attract the bitches, I hear the whispers
My palms got the blisters, uh
By the 4-5, you’re moisturized
The oysters are fried
Pull fives out the toy box
Be as lonely at the top
The watchband is croc, the palace is a Camelot
Don’t ride the camel when it’s hot
They channeling Pac, my chairmen scrambling rock
While I dance to the Spanish guitar
Spit the chorus to stimulate the whore’s clitoris
It tastes like porridge
I felt rewarded, from the man, I ran from the warrant
The high-top Ewings is blue and orange
Flash Gordon
[Chorus]
We still getting it
Piping dimes on the terrace
I’m thinking about my life where it’s headin'
I sleep with heat under the pillow
The cash is where I left it, it’s nothing
I watch the city while I’m fucking, I’m such a glutton
Gucci bucket with the Chukkas, motherfuckers
[Verse 1]
Used to have to pitch
Now I print cash with the BiC
The pad is a blank check
Embrace death, taste flesh
While the rhyme on the page is still wet
Far from fictitious
The cars attract the bitches, I hear the whispers
My palms got the blisters, uh
By the 4-5, you’re moisturized
The oysters are fried
Pull fives out the toy box
Be as lonely at the top
The watchband is croc, the palace is a Camelot
Don’t ride the camel when it’s hot
They channeling Pac, my chairmen scrambling rock
While I dance to the Spanish guitar
Spit the chorus to stimulate the whore’s clitoris
It tastes like porridge
I felt rewarded, from the man, I ran from the warrant
The high-top Ewings is blue and orange
Flash Gordon
[Chorus]
We still getting it
Piping dimes on the terrace
I’m thinking about my life where it’s headin'
I sleep with heat under the pillow
The cash is where I left it, it’s nothing
I watch the city while I’m fucking, I’m such a glutton
Gucci bucket with the Chukkas, motherfuckers
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