Fabio Roc Marciano

[Intro: Fillmore Slim]
She said, uh, "I wanna go wit' ya"
This the part I ain’t understand
I said, "What ya mean, ya wanna go wit' ya?"
"I wanna be-I wan-I wan-I wanna be-I wanna be ya woman," ya know?
I said, "What ya do?"
She said, "I go to bed wit' men for money."
Ya know, I’m just a musician, I don't, I don't, [stuttering], as a blues singer
I don't know what she talkin' about, I'm green to all that
She said, "I wanna go to bed wit' ya. I go to bed wit' men for money."
I said, "What dat is?" Ya know?
She said, "I have sex wit’ ’em."
I said, "Where's ya husband?"
She said, "I don’t have no husband."
Ya know?
I said, "Well, uh."
"But I wanna go wit' you."
So then the fellas in the van, they just kinda just, "Man, we, you can't take her back to Los Angeles wit' you, man. We ain’t got no room for her."
And I looked at my pockets, I said, "Yeah, we gon' have room for this woman. We gon' take her back and one o' y'all got to catch the bus."

[Verse 1: Roc Marciano]
Yo, uh, nobody's perfect but I'm close (I'm close)
I can't be cloned when I was made after they broke the mold (break it)
It was written in stone (stone)
I'm brilliant, just peep what I did with the stove (look)
Uh, your skin'll get cold, I'm killin' shit, I'll never get parole (never)
Uh, holmes, we got different roles, I chose the forbidden road (the forbidden road)
All I had was the toast in my signature Rolls (mmm)
Still got it poppin' though, this my Picasso, hoe
Pop the top, your brains on the side of the road look like a taco bowl (woah)
I dipped off in the yacht, this one of Chapo's boats (wooh!)
My hair was blowin' in the wind like Fabio's (haha, uhhh adios)
The Maserati I drove this like the one that John Gotti owned (Gotti owned)
If I'm ridin' with wifey, it's probably the Ghost (probably)
Lil' mami beside me fly, she's from the Ivory Coast (facts)
Uh, I carved a lane out for myself (for myself)
As for the yay, you can't weigh, it'll break the scale
I came to came with the tale, Alexander Wang made the alligator belt (ow)
These no-talent rappers is fabricatin' tales, uh (get 'em, baby)
Hawaiian top so fly I might skydive
I might throw a lightnin' rod cause I'm a god (cause I'm a god)
Strike you down in the street like a dog (wooh, dog)
Burn an incense (burn a incense)
Burnin' some Cadenzas first with German engines
Learn the bidness, new crib with one word: it's expensive
I might only furnish the place with bitches (yeah)
Know what I'm sayin'? I'ma put one over there, I'm a put a bitch over there
I'ma sit on another bitch like a chair
Know what I'm sayin'?