Roc Marciano - Gunsense lyrics

Since a snot nose we chopped Os
Popped Roscoes
Left one lock like Shakka Amose
Diamond collar bone swerve pot holes
Cop clothes like niggas murdered in Chicago
Miami Beach polyamory
Free financially
You should see the body on my Spanish bitch
Motherfucker this is art
You can't just pick this apart
This not a hobby, this is therapy
Nigga we run this you a fucking fungus
I'm just having fun with this
I live in comfort we don't pump fake
The pump ain't fake, I came to dump it
Still run with the same niggas I came up with
Bust guns with rubber grips
Bitch, whatever it is
Just get it off your chest
Like a breast reduction
Yeah I'm back on my bag of tricks
I fucked hip hop, I had to dead the bedwench
I've been better ever since
You still woulda thought you had better sense
Niggas ain't got no self respect
You can fuck with that but
That ain't this though
That wax shit disco, I dismiss hoes
Bout to cop the Rolls with no tints
Fish bowl french toast then go hit up
Saks Fifth for trench coats sink your boat
Your body wash up somewhere in Glen Cove
I was always told to push the envelope
It had blow in it though
Look what the wind blew in, in Kenneth Coles
Quick, pull a lick like a pick n' roll
The give and go, some nights alone
Run the iso i'm not a racist
Dipped Jesus face in white gold
I know I know that's not the Messiah's nose
He had wide nostrils

Yeah will not run from gunfire
Dem man say them good die young
Know one ting we keep iron
Soak up panty and pillow roc'
Up donkey and skin out we kno gunsense
We kno gunsense, fi know

While politicians volley for position
I blew the pistons out in the Ferrari engine

Stay in beef, we like Arby's
I had to air you out in Pierre Hardy's
Go 69 yourself
Your rent ain't worth my wallet and belt
You may want to try summin else
Signs of wealth, you rhyme for zilch
I'm buying YSL
It's obvious your vibe wasn't felt
I pray father for help
While little mama roll a proper L
Chopper crack you open like a lobster tail
These are mobster tales
Gazelles, new box of shells
Carmels, '69 Chevelles
Chanel kicks for females
If she real and wishes me well
I might cop her the Benz GL

Yeah will not run from gunfire
Dem man say them good die young
Know one ting we keep iron
Soak up panty and pillow roc'
Up donkey and skin out we kno gunsense
We kno gunsense, fi know