Lyrics Roman Candles - The Alchemist, Roc Marciano, Black Thought

Roman Candles

Ugh, Hawaiian shorts shit, four-fifths, pour stick
Cut the dog’s shit, fuck a whore, never course ship
Knocked a couple whores down, raw, never cause shit
Got a gorgeous dick, I was fortunate, you fraudulent
I got the formula, cop the 550 with the spoiler
Bitch I’m kinda spoiled like a four-year-old
Ugh, live in the flesh of real macaroni
My ring of Rollies like «Ring a Ring o’Rosie»
Kill a Hossa, I’m realer than a river monster
To rock for my niggas is an honor
Recordin' life, not lyrics
I was visited by spirits, your shit isn’t authentic
Genuine article, like 9/11 with the fog lights
With the arm all I write is all white, well all right
The guns in the pawn tight
Beef is on sight, niggas didn’t have the foresight
In Dior slippers, can’t get caught slippin'
'Cause when it’s on the clique, it be like «shoulda worn the Pippen’s»
Rock the bucket like I’m fishin', who dissin' might come up missin'
Got a hundred bitches, grew up underprivileged
Old drama’s never water under bridges
I still love the corners from a distance
Keep a pistol where my dick is, this shit is Bisquick
I don’t fit in, I’m still a misfit
Ugh, higher cause shit, Thought shit
Triple black Maserati Sport skrtin' out the crib porch, yeah
Auction at Sotheby’s, I bought a rare portrait
The City of Brotherly’s an iron clad fortress
I’m at the orchestra, focused like Randolph and Mortimer
Talk in broken language like a foreigner
The one and only that’s more holy than matrimony
I charge you and your homie with actin' phony
A real impostor, I’m deeper than the realest roster
Allah’s my bodyguard, no Kevin Costner
Ugh, come get your life augmented, your image is schizophrenic
My memory, photogenic
Return of the prodigal-like, a periodical, methodical type
Game changer, call an audible like, well all right
Y’all niggas rappin', all hype
Ya temperament is the equivalent of soft light
Get caught trippin' and visit the mortician
Right with the shortlist of niggas who support snitchin'
I’m like ghetto Gastro up in the kitchen
Embarkin' on this official, astrophysical mission
I broke the internet like an intermission
Raisin' the bar is like raisin' the partition
The messiah that stretch higher to catch fire
The empire of the motherfuckin' esquire
I know that you feel that you’re on you’re own
All your lucky stars
Listen to me, listen to me (Yeah)
Listen to me
Listen to me