Flash Gordon Roc Marciano

[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