Roc Marciano - I.G.W.T lyrics

All we got is us, in God we trust
This how the job
Sound when it's properly done
Imma only run this down to
Y'all cocksuckers once i'm not to be touched
Like the oven top when
It's hot without gloves
Wash up a scrub all you see is suds
You so dusty now that we done
We gotta clean the tub
Steam from the gun released the wrinkles
From your cheap fitting tux
Talked so greasy, B, he was obviously drunk
(must be fucked up)
Deep in the game, my Adidas is stuck
I'm no mind reader my G but
I could see what's to come
When I spoke redeemed
This the holy Ghost cuz I
Believe I'm speaking in tongues
I'm leaving blood on the
Sheets I'm reading from
Bob and weave cause the key's not
To get beat to the punch chop you though
All you see is pieces and chunks
Looking like the toppings you
Eat at pizza hut
Ain't no sweeping me under the rug
Like the secret you tucked
You think it's love then motherfuckers sink
Their teeth in your grub
To keep it a buck I been greedy
I done feasted enough
Shots of tequila and Puerto Rican rum
Off the reefer I caught a decent buzz
The street I'm from
It ain't all peaches and plums
You either a bum or you keep what
The fiends want in your sneaker tongue (uh)

All we got is us in God we trust, nigga
All we got is us in God we trust, nigga

Somebody help me somebody help me
Somebody help me somebody help me

They want the real back
Nigga that's real rap feel the wrath
Sprayed you with the blick, flip your raft
Shit made a big splash
Mad ripples in the river like
When the wind bad
Listen kid I was chilling when
I got wind of that
I had the window cracked, It's lit
Don't let the wind blow out the match
If we clash, bet you don't win no match
You can't do shit with me like
A bitch with no ass
Off the rip to itch for them stacks
When we had the kid knee to
Scratch like a Brillo pad
The bag look like a pillow fill with cash
(stuffed it)
Puerto Romanos, wore the diamonds
Three quarter water moccasins
I wore these to the Oscars, pimp
For these bottles I had an ostrich killed
The guts of the Mazzy was
Looking like chocolate milk (ill)
I'm keeping it funky like monkey lice
These little ugly motherfuckers don't
Want me to shine
Like the sun in the sky in summertime
That's forever not just some of the time
These other guys yet to measure
Even up to my thigh
Tryna thrive, I felt your funny vibe
You wonder where your underlings slide
When the money dry
Caught em' in Queens riding through Sunnyside
Shit they lucky they ain't on sonny's side
They getting chicken it's not Kentucky fried
Buddy we makes a lot to be comfy
But money's not my guy
(We makes a lot to be comfy
But money's not my guy)