Roc Marciano - Amethyst lyrics

Let's go olive green Bally windbreaker to
Wet my taste buds
Y’all hatin' niggas praying for table crumbs
Damn, ya'll looking bad
Y’all might be mistaken for bums
My first thought was to put some
Spare change in your cup
Here's a blanket, least you'll be covered up
I'm becomin' numb
I don't feel the love at night, I hug my guns
Might touch you with the same razor
I use to cut my drugs
Homie, these blades ain't made for shavin'
Son (Nah)
The snub is stainless, the yay
Is white like Shia LaBeouf, i weighed it
(I weighed it up)
Liposucked the plug, left ’em weightless
Niggas on the waitin’ list
Look at your grayed-up wig
What's that, a wave kit? Listen, baby
Don’t shake the ship still, they assist
Shit's scaring away the fish i'm a playa
Son, I'm just sitting here
Sharing game with pimps
Bitch tried to throw a big monkey
Wrench in my Benz vent
I find it interestin’ I was chillin' just
When they thought the engine went
I still did it big (did it big)
Pick of the litter but no kittens here
I'm like Huey Newton sitting in the king's
Wicker chair with the pistol near
My face is chiseled in
The silverware with care (uh)
Spilling Belaire on the thread I wear
I'm a threat out here
You better not let the cat out for air, yeah
Uh, I'm a threat out here
You better not let the cat out for air, yeah

I've been high and low it's gotten simple
One thing I always know
Don't let myself go (stay on my shit, Marc)
Y'all stay sleep you only dreamin'
That's why I'll never lose (yeah)
I keep my gun close
(Ooh, uh, come on, keep it)
Screamin' fuck the other side
(fuck them niggas, yeah)
Ain't no love, it's us alive
As long as you don't fuck with my dime, dime

Uh, uh, always had a scheme to get by
In the cream FILA for them green guys
True indeed
I might eavesdrop at the cheeba spot
When I'm in need of guwop with
The fake beard like ZZ Top
Your bitch in the V with me, it's easy top
Stop, don't get your zucchini popped
I disappear like Houdini, Ma, in the blue DB9
It's moving easy, right? Dreamy like CGI, uh
Up in the Babylon, caught one in
The arm like Al Pacino
Why did I have cappuccino?
Fifty shot clip in the drum
No need to reload
Frontin' like I won't come and pop
One in your knee bone, uh
I lied, I'm not a pimp, I'm more like a mack
The gun's worn in the small of my back
Wash the money from the raw off
At the laundromat, it's the format, uh
The Range Rover Sport all black
I'm all that, the whole ball of wax
For the bag
I give you one where you store the most fat
Shot lil' mama in the ass pap