
Roman Candles The Alchemist (Ft. Black Thought & Roc Marciano)
На этой странице вы найдете полный текст песни "Roman Candles" от The Alchemist (Ft. Black Thought & Roc Marciano). Lyrxo предлагает вам самый полный и точный текст этой композиции без лишних отвлекающих факторов. Узнайте все куплеты и припев, чтобы лучше понять любимую песню и насладиться ею в полной мере. Идеально для фанатов и всех, кто ценит качественную музыку.

[Verse 1: Roc Marciano]
Ugh, Hawaiian shorts shit, four-fifths, Porsche stick
Cut the dog's shit, fuck a whore, never courtship
Knocked a couple whores down, raw, never caught shit
Got a gorgeous dick, I was fortunate, you fraudulent
I got the formula, cop the 550 with the spoiler
Bitch I'm kinda spoiled like a four-year-old
Ugh, live in the flesh, a real macaroni
My ring of Rollies like "Ring Around the Rosie"
Kill a Haza, I'm realer than a river monster
To rock for my niggas is an honor
Recordin' life, not lyrics
I was visited by spirits, your shit isn't authentic
Genuine article, like 9/11 with the fog lights
With the arm all I write is hard white, well all right
The guns in the palm tight
Beef is on sight, niggas didn't have the foresight
In Dior slippers, can't get caught slippin'
'Cause when it's on and clickin', it be like "shoulda wore the Pippen's"
Rock the bucket like I'm fishin', who dissin' might come up missin'
Got a hundred bitches, grew up underprivileged
Old drama's never water under bridges
I still love the corners from a distance
Keep a pistol where my dick is, this shit is Bisquick
I don't fit in, I'm still a misfit
Ugh, Hawaiian shorts shit, four-fifths, Porsche stick
Cut the dog's shit, fuck a whore, never courtship
Knocked a couple whores down, raw, never caught shit
Got a gorgeous dick, I was fortunate, you fraudulent
I got the formula, cop the 550 with the spoiler
Bitch I'm kinda spoiled like a four-year-old
Ugh, live in the flesh, a real macaroni
My ring of Rollies like "Ring Around the Rosie"
Kill a Haza, I'm realer than a river monster
To rock for my niggas is an honor
Recordin' life, not lyrics
I was visited by spirits, your shit isn't authentic
Genuine article, like 9/11 with the fog lights
With the arm all I write is hard white, well all right
The guns in the palm tight
Beef is on sight, niggas didn't have the foresight
In Dior slippers, can't get caught slippin'
'Cause when it's on and clickin', it be like "shoulda wore the Pippen's"
Rock the bucket like I'm fishin', who dissin' might come up missin'
Got a hundred bitches, grew up underprivileged
Old drama's never water under bridges
I still love the corners from a distance
Keep a pistol where my dick is, this shit is Bisquick
I don't fit in, I'm still a misfit
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