History Roc Marciano
On this page, discover the full lyrics of the song "History" 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.
[Intro]
The peddling of dope is a business
And business methods (Yeah)
Are used, including (Moss)
The "free sample" to bring in the new customer
The take is [Inaudible] fantastic. (Hm)
An estimated two thousand peddlers in New York (Raw)
City alone gross at least (Straight up')
One hundred million dollars annually. (Uh)
Federal narcotics agents agree [Inaudible]
That an international dope network (Check it) exists (Ah)
[Verse 1]
Fields of kush, a strain, Barbara Bush
Lay in the cut like a rook, play it by the book
For hard looks, let 'em cook, his frame shook
Before he stood his firstborn grew a foot
Time moves slow, the mind moves quicker
Your bitches'll slide, my rhyme is a scripture
Never take shit for granted, spliffs vanish
Hit the dancers, Dorothy Dandridge, Irene Cara
On a platter, she gagged on the bladder
I smeared her mascara and flashed to Nevada
Pull out the pump, let it sneeze once
Put the ax to your back like tree trunk
Niggas had a brief run, the shit was sweet as a Capri Sun
Kid Capri, peach fuzz
Your bitch lick the pre-cum right off the D-cups
My nuts hang like ribs in a meat truck
Shots of Henny in a teacup, I'm too clean-cut
The shoulder strap come with a machine gun
The peddling of dope is a business
And business methods (Yeah)
Are used, including (Moss)
The "free sample" to bring in the new customer
The take is [Inaudible] fantastic. (Hm)
An estimated two thousand peddlers in New York (Raw)
City alone gross at least (Straight up')
One hundred million dollars annually. (Uh)
Federal narcotics agents agree [Inaudible]
That an international dope network (Check it) exists (Ah)
[Verse 1]
Fields of kush, a strain, Barbara Bush
Lay in the cut like a rook, play it by the book
For hard looks, let 'em cook, his frame shook
Before he stood his firstborn grew a foot
Time moves slow, the mind moves quicker
Your bitches'll slide, my rhyme is a scripture
Never take shit for granted, spliffs vanish
Hit the dancers, Dorothy Dandridge, Irene Cara
On a platter, she gagged on the bladder
I smeared her mascara and flashed to Nevada
Pull out the pump, let it sneeze once
Put the ax to your back like tree trunk
Niggas had a brief run, the shit was sweet as a Capri Sun
Kid Capri, peach fuzz
Your bitch lick the pre-cum right off the D-cups
My nuts hang like ribs in a meat truck
Shots of Henny in a teacup, I'm too clean-cut
The shoulder strap come with a machine gun
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