Amethyst - Roc Marciano

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