
Date of issue: 16.12.2013
Age restrictions: 18+
Record label: Fastmoney
Song language: English
Marmalade Sky |
Ah, what the fuck, vintage 'Lo letterman, RL veteran |
Move the work out of Edison with my brethren |
Hit the mapquest, fucks a rap check |
I move the pawns on the board |
Divert attention from the queen to the lords |
20 years a veteran back of the fort |
Drugs galore, getting 'Lo from the loft |
Flip out the chopper then I’m swimming a shore |
Meet the connect on the beach |
Cop the coco with the sand in my sneaks |
Brief case exchange for the reserve notes |
Then pulled off in the surge boat |
The tides is rough, diamond on the pinky is plush |
Surround my feet with them cigarettes butts, you know |
Bad habit, skin the rabbit, medium well is how I have it |
Truffle mac with the carrots, straight classic |
No static on the craftmatic, making magic |
That’s how it happened |
The plan was perfect, you shoulda heard it |
I zip lined right through the curtains |
Tuck and roll into the corridor |
Then caught the vase before it hit the floor |
I snapped his neck at the drawing board |
Gather the prints, plant the bomb escape through the vent |
Parasail off the roof into the whip with the tints |
Then pulled off like a renegade |
Not to mention it was father’s day |
The sky was marmalade |
Toss 'em the chair, dropkick while it’s still in the air |
Elbow drop to the retina, now he vision impaired |
Crime scene at the Bellagio |
The Cop was pussy but he stocky though |
I faked him out with the stop and go |
I broke his ankle, got his sock exposed |
He tried to style, look how I got him though |
Spin move, hurdle over a family of five |
Ass plop on the railing of the stairs and I slide |
Land on a skateboard, noseslide, on top of the grey Ford |
Somersault into your sunroof, pass you a blunt, already lit |
Take this left here on fifth, hop out at the light |
And slide off with my bitch, five percent on the tint |
On the strip smoking Dank Sinatra, she had a gangsta father |
I make his daughter lick my balls as I load the chopper |
In the Heisman posture, wash the Polo boxers |
All I do is conquer |
The plan was perfect, you shoulda heard it |
I zip lined right through the curtains |
Tuck and roll into the corridor |
Then caught the vase before it hit the floor |
I snapped his neck at the drawing board |
Gather the prints, plant the bomb escape through the vent |
Parasail off the roof into the whip with the tints |
Then pulled off like a renegade |
Not to mention it was father’s day |
The sky was marmalade |
Name | Year |
---|---|
Dead Friends | 2019 |
2-Eleven | 2017 |
Scramble | 2017 |
Feel Me | 2019 |
On Me ft. ScHoolboy Q | 2019 |
Street Hop ft. Buckwild, Retch, Troy Ave | 2014 |
Not to Mention | 2016 |
Couple Straps | 2016 |
Whalé ft. Ab-Soul, Retch | 2013 |
Run Up Them Racks | 2017 |
Trippin | 2019 |
I Need | 2017 |
Whip Out ft. Slayter | 2020 |
Bad Luck | 2015 |
Gang Shit | 2019 |
Trickery | 2019 |
Bodeine Brazy | 2019 |
Nah Fr | 2019 |
Fed Up ft. Gu Mitch | 2019 |
First Day Home | 2017 |