Chef up for this nigga
Why don't you throw me some baking soda
Some eggs too
Yeah nigga
Hm
[Verse 1]
Uh, we chef'ing up
Who you think you impress when you dressing up? (Uh)
Stick your chest out you get your breast cut
Get off my left nut
I pull a 7 up
Ya'll ain't said much
My young niggas head hunt
Have your shit looking like egg foo young (mmmm)
Ya'll finished or ya'll done?
I might done you with the small gun
My man brung the drum
Let's give the drummer some
Rum-pum pum pum
I let a hot one run in your cummerbund
Blood was all on his tux buttoned up
His buddies thought he might eat a few, he was muscular
But he didn't, finish
I had the mask on
I had to just lift it to let him know who did this (I did this)
I ate your food, it was delicious
My Haitian bitch, she doing voodoo with the chickens
Pinky ring and Cartier ingot king shit
Full length mink shit, sipping pink shit (yeah)
Fly shooters in from Kingston with the things gripped
Itchy trigger finger tips, two Gucci wingtips
All my jewelry clean bitch
You see this shit?
[Interlude]
You see me?
Check me out
Check me out bitch
Nigga I'm back
Marc Baby
Charge for interviews too
Yeah, five bands
Just to sit down
And bust it up
Fuck out of here
[Verse 2]
Uh, hate it or love it I'm just laying in comfort
I made the punches in the rubber Tim Duncans
I did my numbers while you was in the tub with rubber ducklings (uhhh)
I was on some rubber glove shit
Pumping fish, pockets lumpy like pufferfish
The pump was in the truck, my leather looking like pumpkin skin
We hustled in the Comfort Inn, I still got one foot in
This is my life, look how wonderful it is
Bulletproof the Benz, this Rosebudd's Revenge
This where your road ends, I put that on my gold Rolex
Who knows what's next
I'm here with moguls sniffing coke on the desk
I never copped my blow compressed, it stretched, it stretched
Silk windbreakers and BM's racing
Maybe they ???? like Jason Statham
Paper chasing, Ducati shades for aviation, out the atrium
They say he a pimp, get money out a bitch off a corner like a ATM (hahaha)
Get money out a bitch out the corner like a ATM (hahaha)
[Outro]
Yeah boy, can't make no shit up
Don't ever get it fucked up boyee
Pimpstead boyee
Shit is jewlery nigga
Could wear this nigga
Could wear my rhymes boyee
[Intro] Chef up for this nigga Why don't you throw me some baking soda Some eggs too Yeah nigga Hm [Verse 1] Uh, we chef'ing up Who you think you impress when you dressing up? (Uh) Stick your chest out you get your breast cut Get off my left nut I pull a 7 up Ya'll ain't said much My young niggas head hunt Have your shit looking like egg foo young (mmmm) Ya'll finished or ya'll done? I might done you with the small gun My man brung the drum Let's give the drummer some Rum-pum pum pum I let a hot one run in your cummerbund Blood was all on his tux buttoned up His buddies thought he might eat a few, he was muscular But he didn't, finish I had the mask on I had to just lift it to let him know who did this (I did this) I ate your food, it was delicious My Haitian bitch, she doing voodoo with the chickens Pinky ring and Cartier ingot king shit Full length mink shit, sipping pink shit (yeah) Fly shooters in from Kingston with the things gripped Itchy trigger finger tips, two Gucci wingtips All my jewelry clean bitch You see this shit? [Interlude] You see me? Check me out Check me out bitch Nigga I'm back Marc Baby Charge for interviews too Yeah, five bands Just to sit down And bust it up Fuck out of here [Verse 2] Uh, hate it or love it I'm just laying in comfort I made the punches in the rubber Tim Duncans I did my numbers while you was in the tub with rubber ducklings (uhhh) I was on some rubber glove shit Pumping fish, pockets lumpy like pufferfish The pump was in the truck, my leather looking like pumpkin skin We hustled in the Comfort Inn, I still got one foot in This is my life, look how wonderful it is Bulletproof the Benz, this Rosebudd's Revenge This where your road ends, I put that on my gold Rolex Who knows what's next I'm here with moguls sniffing coke on the desk I never copped my blow compressed, it stretched, it stretched Silk windbreakers and BM's racing Maybe they ???? like Jason Statham Paper chasing, Ducati shades for aviation, out the atrium They say he a pimp, get money out a bitch off a corner like a ATM (hahaha) Get money out a bitch out the corner like a ATM (hahaha) [Outro] Yeah boy, can't make no shit up Don't ever get it fucked up boyee Pimpstead boyee Shit is jewlery nigga Could wear this nigga Could wear my rhymes boyee Explain Request ×
Lyrics taken from
/lyrics/r/roc_marciano/here_i_am.html
