Roc Marciano – It's A Crime lyrics

[Verse 1]
I got my eyes on you
Pies are ordered. Lines are snorted, eyes watered
Got source wit 5's and the quarters hittin ya'll corners
Risin' on 'em like high waters
My supporters is side call 'em
Hold, steady eye ballin
Coke wit the Arm & Hammer near the pot boiling
Colt .45, 9 Taurus
Cops is on us. Niggas out kickin' up top soil
Two Glocks on 'em, we're now warrin'
Five Warrens, ride foreign, car soarin'
My performance, we steal em', ya'll brought em'
See da seal and start peeling like an orange
My appearance is not syrup
You starin', while I'm steering the McLaren
Like hard castle and Mccormicks
You prolly corded, if not recorded
My eyes soarin' like Dionne Warwick
You lie dormant, let the whores in for us
Young Cummares like Don Pores
Ar de pora. Hoes offer to drink my urine
It's 'cern that I'm stern
The fur got ya bitch kitten purrin'
It's like I'm pimpin' and servin' once the dicks inserted
She turned to a whole different person
Dig in purses. Image worship
That's like our church is
You can tell I'm a pimp by how my shirt fit

[Hook]
Keep it open like the zipper broken
Sit low up in the nickel loaded
Wit' da pistol loaded...
Doin' crime all the time
Doin crime all the time
Doin crime all the time

[Verse 2]
Clutchin' the tech, bustin ya head
Know when you're fuckin' wit' me, your fuckin' wit da best
Cuttin' ya neck, blood on the deck
Just give a hunned percent
Brother shouldn't expect nuttin' less
Gun is kept under the sweats
When I'm done stuffin' ya chest, nothin' is left
Ya underdressed, run to the nest, cover ya breasts
Mumblin, stressed, under ya breath
Money to get, 20's and 10's
Luxury benz, buttery timbs wit' da vest
Skully. Truthfully I'mma bully
My ex said I was a mess yet very tastefully dressed
If I must say so myself. It's like I'm layin wealth
Bathin in silk. Gator on hat, shoes, and the belt
What else? Food in the velt. What else?
Food in the stare you chewed like a meal
Eludin the ville, removed out the will
2 is Cassille, the mood is Brazil
Shootin' to kill, you dudes hit da grill
Niggas is food for real troops, still
In the ville, I'm in a deville, in the field, you pushin' up daffodils
Laughin' still. I'm blowin
I'm wearin rose gold, chromey out the coat, pokin'

[Hook]
Uh, straight G shit
Shout out to my physical bliss

[Production by Roc Marciano]