I Shot the King - Roc Marciano

Real nigga play the field with the long.40

Gator coat like a pimp dressed so gordy

Jumpin' out a gold 640 this is his story

Bitch I’m in it for the chips and the glory

The listeners adore me, fly hoes lay before me

You’re not fit to put your heel in a Mauri

You’re rich but you’re still corny

My crib sit by the rock quarry

I’m up twenty five stories

Tied in with the shooters, niggas know the resume

Red Chevrolet, AK, no pepper spray

We shade, see through your image like an X-Ray

Collect a pay where the Mets play

The chain hang by the chest plate, ignorant shit

Quarter million on the wrist

Throw you in the water with the fish

Paint the town, let the cape hang down

Let it spray round, dip the jake

Run the hood, dictate, how my dick taste?

Great, squished grapes, move at a swift pace

Get cake, they imitate, break the template

Like an eighth, the blade hit the freebase

Treat the brick like an inmate face

Run the break like David Wingate

Get your shit straight

Squeeze the fifth like a thick snake

Fixate, nice whips for a rich slave

Bang, brain hang like ding-a-ling

Bring the banger, every day’s like a cliffhanger

Tip the waiter, grace like an ice skater

Nice, late night, dice shaker

Meet the maker, price, light paper

Tight, slice pies, I’m a baker

Polite nature, the waves with the light taper

.45 that’s a life changer

I swung in on a chandelier

As we sat there on his throne

He turned his head and

Shouted Oh No

Realize the fact

I ain’t never comin' back (This some good shit nigga)

I shot the king

I shot the king

Hit 'em up, jump in the truck

Play the cut, caked up

My beige gators got scraped up

Laces up from the corrupt

Lift the cup, your feet go up at the Key Club

Keep the snub, sleep snug

Release slugs while my ladybug steam in the tub

Give me some guns and a mean plug

The team grub, twist the green shrub

Roll a whole dub

Put on the gloves because cut drugs

With the thugs before I had peach fuzz

Movin' on your turf with the good work

Silk shirt, 'Lo quilt, you get killed

Lift a fuck nigga kilt, blood spilled

Hit the milf, left covered in filth

You’re dead with the pistol concealed

In the pen field.

spin your top like a pinwheel

Sit still nigga chill with' a bitch like Ms. Brazil

It’s a feel like a young Lauryn Hill

Cut the body at the sawmill

Every song is a will, my life’s on film

I write what I feel, did my time in the field

My mind full of diamonds, it’s filled

Sniff the fish in a crisp bill

It’s the real, swift with the steel

Kendall Gill with' the pill, I shoot good from the field

Never miss, never will, click your heels

It’s a deal, quick get your wig peeled

You got fucked, how the dick feel?