Secrets Roc Marciano

[Intro]
Yeah baby, I'm back
Yeah, I need you to come wit’ me, baby
Hop in this GT thing wit' me
And as we ride off into the night, put your head in my lap

[Verse 1]
Uh, been to Gran Turismo, fishbowl
Across the Golden Gate Bridge in San Francisco
Can't get friendzoned in the end zone
Shells from the Mac-10 blow, hit your glass window
Hear the shots crescendo
Thirty-clip extendo turn your skin cold
Spit the illest flows in Kenneth Coles
Well here it goes
Visions of getting Joes in my pimpish clothes
Wrist is frigid, my thick bitch from Memphis is pigeon-toed (uh)
Wrist is frigid, my thick bitch from Memphis is pigeon-toed
This is livin’, kicks is lizard, whips is six figures or bigger
Not your typical nigga, I'm particular
Articulate, I talk and the check get cut
This is considered literature, but niggas never read a book
Tell 'em look (look)
We can get em booked (booked)
Ask for the blow, we could push it raw or sell it cooked (cooked)
Hop in the Porsche 911, all you smell is kush (smell it)
I just ball in Margielas like I'm seven foot, baby look (baby, look)