Bruh Man - Roc Marciano

Crash Beamers, get my slacks out the cleaners

My queen don’t even speak English

Watches on arms, rings on fingers

Notes played like Coltrane and Mingus

If you can’t play the game, wing it

Remember Lee?

The same as me, wing men, smooth as Luther Ingram

Ordained, shoe game strained, Eddie Kane’s pain

Heavy chain, sex, cocaine, a fresh chest pain

Dress plain, clever, White Plains, my life’s changed

Polite ways, nice waves, white slaves

My Nikes is like the ice age, Ice Capades

I rock the Issac Hayes shades, it was a phase

The legacy, the flesh of an emcee is a delicacy

I delicately squeeze shots from the celibacy

I’m like Denzel in Pelican Brief

The Porsche is yellow like American cheese (please)

My taste in women’s like Sade, we left the soiree

The Jaguar’s gray, the caviar’s great

Swipe the black card, 4.6 come with the crash bar

The seats is white like Terry Bradshaw

It’s a tough business, I’m duckin' the sentence

Hustlers, sinners, crushin' the fiddish

A touch of spinach, bruh man, nigga chillin, nigga chillin'

Bruh man, nigga chillin'

Water whippin' work — whip the furt (merk)

Twist purp, hit ‘em where it hurt

$ 800 dollar shirt, bitches flirt, I kick up dirt

Shit, Bert, Benzes with the skirt, rubber get burnt

Duckin' 5−0, whoa, Tae Bo

Eyes low, keep the .45 by the thigh bone

Chanel socks, Glocks, tip the bellhop

Checks is in the mailbox, to think we used to sell rocks

Flex the gators with the petrified eye

Accessorize, neck ties, cuff links, rough minks

Just think, I can knock your buzzard just with one blink

‘Cause it ain’t nothin' sweet, buckin' heat, hookers rub feet

Hoes we never cuff ‘em, let ‘em run free

The clothes?

Shit is custom — we run things, things don’t run we

Crocodiled-down, Dundee

Yo, it’s a done D, hoes often tell me I got dumb Gs