456 (Feat. Action Bronson)
Roc Marciano
What you got, man? I need some shit to take a motherfucking cop out the sky (look) Truth or dare (dare) for niggas that'll shoot the square (uh) Yeah, Gore-Tex, got a few pair (uh) Bust a move, make a shoe tear (uh) Take off your ear like a souvenir, swing from the chandelier (right, nigga) Richard Gere with the gear, Ric Flair (yeah) Yeah, squeeze clips in the brisk air Split your pear for the wristwear Yeah, the kid is a pistolier (yo) Yo, diamond choker (uh), we bonded at the Ponderosta Islamic culture, put the copper in the toaster (uh) Pot smoker (smoker), drive the Rover with the silent motor (shh) Mama, I'm vulgar, my persona got the fly aroma (catch me lackin') Catch me on stage rappin' in Jamaican accent (bombaclot) Bang a actress from Moreno to Anglo-Saxon (uh) Display the axes, twin nickel-plated ratchets The rainbow Rolls radioactive Uh, with the tramp, daddy gallivant Break the marrow like a aloe plant We came gallant in the caravan, the Smith & Wesson be the mallet brand You tend to extend the olive branch All my niggas hustle digital scales, Cazals The fish scale color Kevin McHale Lift the veil where the pelicans sail, the black MAC-11 is held You either go to Heaven or Hell, motherfucker Truth or dare for niggas that'll shoot the square Yeah, Gore-Tex, got a few pair Bust a move, make a shoe tear Take off your ear like a souvenir, swing from the chandelier (yeah) Richard Gere with the gear, Ric Flair (fuckboy) Yeah, squeeze clips in the brisk air (woo) Split your pear for the wristwear (Long Island, nigga) Yeah, the kid is a pistolier Tighten the knot (uh), nights at the dock Shot at the livestock, the top of the thermometer pop (uh) One monkey don't make the show stop, we plot over the stovetop Sip Coronas (mm), lift the Dakota with the shoulder stock Mazola pop in the pan, pop a clan, chop the tan (tan) The king's head was propped on the stand Feeding at the Garden of Eden, I'm a heathen Two fifths in my bitch cleavage, it's the completion Script a jewel sitting by the pool, mate with the Goddess Light the chronic with a flame from a comet (woo) Plant the seed (seed), I'm limping like Willis Reed Move at a pimp speed to bend trees (uh) The little dream make the triple beam lean Lit up a stick of nicotine Got me ducking ten-speed and Ben Vereen (uh) Pen the text (text), pinky rest in the crystal meth Tickle the trigger with the index, press Truth or dare for niggas that'll shoot the square Yeah, Gore-Tex, got a few pair Bust a move, make a shoe tear Take off your ear like a souvenir, swing from the chandelier Richard Gere with the gear, Ric Flair Yeah, squeeze clips in the brisk air Split your pear for the wristwear Yeah, the kid is a pistolier Uh Ain't know I could pop a cap that easy Blaow That whole room lit up And went silent