Roc Marciano - Here I Am lyrics
[Roc Marciano - Here I Am lyrics]
Chef up for this nigga
Why don't you throw me some baking soda
Some eggs too yeah, nigga
Hm
Uh, we chef'ing up who you think you impress
When you dressing up? (Uh)
Stick your chest out you get your breast cut
Get off my left nut i pull a 7 up
Y'all ain't said much
My young niggas head hunt
Have your shit looking like egg foo young
(mmmm) ya'll finished or ya'll done?
I might done you with the small gun
My man brung the drum
Let's give the drummer some rum-pum pum pum
I let a hot one run in your cummerbund
Blood was all on his tux buttoned up
His buddies thought he might eat a few
He was muscular but he didn't, finish
I had the mask on i had to just lift it to
Let him know who did this (I did this)
I ate your food, it was delicious
My Haitian bitch
She doing voodoo with the chickens
Pinky ring and Cartier ingot king shit
Full length mink shit, sipping pink shit
(yeah) fly shooters in from Kingston
With the things gripped
Itchy trigger finger tips, two Gucci wingtips
All my jewelry clean bitch
You see this shit?
You see me? Check me out
Check me out bitch nigga I'm back
Marc Baby charge for interviews too
Yeah, five bands just to sit down
And bust it up fuck out of here
Uh, hate it or love it
I'm just laying in comfort
I made the punches in the rubber Tim Duncans
I did my numbers while you was
In the tub with rubber ducklings (uhhh)
I was on some rubber glove shit
Pumping fish, pockets lumpy like pufferfish
The pump was in the truck
My leather looking like pumpkin skin
We hustled in the Comfort Inn
I still got one foot in
This is my life, look how wonderful it is
Bulletproof the Benz, this Rosebudd's Revenge
This where your road ends
I put that on my gold Rolex
Who knows what's next
I'm here with moguls sniffing
Coke on the desk i never copped my blow
Compressed, it stretched, it stretched
Silk windbreakers and BM's racing
Maybe they aid like Jason Statham
Paper chasing, Ducati shades for aviation
Out the atrium they say he a pimp
Get money out a bitch off a corner like a ATM
(hahaha) get money out a bitch out
The corner like a ATM (hahaha)
Yeah boy, can't make no shit up
Don't ever get it fucked up boyee
Pimpstead boyee shit is jewlery nigga
Could wear this nigga
Could wear my rhymes boyee
Why don't you throw me some baking soda
Some eggs too yeah, nigga
Hm
Uh, we chef'ing up who you think you impress
When you dressing up? (Uh)
Stick your chest out you get your breast cut
Get off my left nut i pull a 7 up
Y'all ain't said much
My young niggas head hunt
Have your shit looking like egg foo young
(mmmm) ya'll finished or ya'll done?
I might done you with the small gun
My man brung the drum
Let's give the drummer some rum-pum pum pum
I let a hot one run in your cummerbund
Blood was all on his tux buttoned up
His buddies thought he might eat a few
He was muscular but he didn't, finish
I had the mask on i had to just lift it to
Let him know who did this (I did this)
I ate your food, it was delicious
My Haitian bitch
She doing voodoo with the chickens
Pinky ring and Cartier ingot king shit
Full length mink shit, sipping pink shit
(yeah) fly shooters in from Kingston
With the things gripped
Itchy trigger finger tips, two Gucci wingtips
All my jewelry clean bitch
You see this shit?
You see me? Check me out
Check me out bitch nigga I'm back
Marc Baby charge for interviews too
Yeah, five bands just to sit down
And bust it up fuck out of here
Uh, hate it or love it
I'm just laying in comfort
I made the punches in the rubber Tim Duncans
I did my numbers while you was
In the tub with rubber ducklings (uhhh)
I was on some rubber glove shit
Pumping fish, pockets lumpy like pufferfish
The pump was in the truck
My leather looking like pumpkin skin
We hustled in the Comfort Inn
I still got one foot in
This is my life, look how wonderful it is
Bulletproof the Benz, this Rosebudd's Revenge
This where your road ends
I put that on my gold Rolex
Who knows what's next
I'm here with moguls sniffing
Coke on the desk i never copped my blow
Compressed, it stretched, it stretched
Silk windbreakers and BM's racing
Maybe they aid like Jason Statham
Paper chasing, Ducati shades for aviation
Out the atrium they say he a pimp
Get money out a bitch off a corner like a ATM
(hahaha) get money out a bitch out
The corner like a ATM (hahaha)
Yeah boy, can't make no shit up
Don't ever get it fucked up boyee
Pimpstead boyee shit is jewlery nigga
Could wear this nigga
Could wear my rhymes boyee