| Light my blunt, you fucking whore
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| Yeah, that’s what the fuck I’m talking about
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| Nigga’s got game, it’s a muthafucking shame
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| Make you want to grab the pump shotty and aim
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| One in the brain, uh yeah, one in the brain
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| Check it, yeah, uhh
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| Nigga’s got game, it’s a muthafucking shame
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| Grab the pump shotty and aim
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| When you see me with that mask
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| It ain’t for hockey, black
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| Used to play the lobby with crack
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| Wally’s is black
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| Pontiac’s quality rap
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| Tapping punani from the back off the Yak
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| My bitch is built like a yak
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| My kick’s is a rack
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| Open your chicken wrap
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| Wings on the pigeon flap
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| Still rock fisherman hats with the slacks
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| You’re listening to facts
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| Nothing false
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| My heart won’t defrost
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| Send shots back and forth
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| Serve soft, ho circle us all
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| Dipped in velour
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| Kiss the gift horse (muah)
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| A eighth off the bricks chipped off (break 'em off)
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| Rose gold links from Panama
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| Tan lines from camel rides
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| Smooth like the Phantom glides
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| Fly eyewear, diamonds is rare
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| Fresh out of Zaire
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| I’m on a higher tier
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| Dry your tear
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| Pop guns by the pair
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| One in the trunk, call that a spare
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| Lift you in the air
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| Ligaments tear
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| Yeah
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| My mind is different though
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| Just lift your chain over your neck
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| Don’t make it difficult
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| These choices I make
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| No need for explanation
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| Exceeding expectations
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| I’m like a surgeon deal with daily operations-
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| Of the life we live
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| Green drugs rolled up in paper
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| A very subtle Meyer lemon sauce
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| Sicilian capers
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| Moroccan razors
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| Cause life is all about a balance
|
| Good come with the bad
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| The plain comes with the palette
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| It could get violent
|
| Send your body to the stylist
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| I stand alone
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| You cats be wildin' like I’m Irish
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| Protection from the virus, «Magic» J
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| Homies pass away
|
| I’m living life until that tragic day
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| Dip in 635, CSI, Gil Grissom eyes
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| We only smoke it if it’s crystallized
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| The drugs are hidden by a pigeon in her tits and thighs
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| My pockets never minimize
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| Whipping a cinnamon ride
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| This crime saga rap
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| Twist the Goldschläger cap
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| Waves under my stocking cap
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| Queens shit, we started that
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| East Coast artifact
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| Never artificial
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| Fly lecture architecture
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| Boxcutters will kiss you
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| Shotgun shells will massage you
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| Type of affection that’ll make your friends dodge you
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| It’s all love though
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| Even in times of war
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| I’ll beat the pussy up
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| And make vaginas raw
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| Wait a designer whore
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| They come back like china raw
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| Fly, fuck a tie
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| Only suit I’m rocking is velour
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| Got Benz money but look better in a Cadillac
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| Timepieces, rhyme, pieces
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| Victim of my habitat
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| Divine status, I’m already known for having that
|
| Dead a tan linguine nowadays because I rather black
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| And fuck marinara, I like my gravy hotter
|
| We keeps it spicy so I order it arrabiata |
Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Velvet Cape , by - Roc Marciano. Song from the album The Pimpire Strikes Back, in the genre Иностранный рэп и хип-хоп