Tom Chambers - Roc Marciano, Knowledge the Pirate

Don’t get in my way, don’t get in my way

Don’t get in my way

Get in my way, shots from the AK

Shit gon' spray, if you get in my way

Don’t get in my way, don’t get in my way

We don’t play, don’t get in my way

Get in my way

The money green but now it’s blue

I’m a phenom, you feed lies to the youth

Still rock the cream Filas with the strings loose

Don’t think of me when you mention these nincompoops, I’m the truth

Hit you and leave you nude, you can hula hoop through a Froot Loop

The root of all evil’s the love of loot, but brothers wasn’t moved

With stacks of hundreds in the duffel you look lovable

Who ran off to be a couple ‘cause that’s what true lovers do

Fuck with no rubbers in the W

Can’t trust motherfuckers above the room

Why don’t you get comfortable and remove your running shoes

Run through these new dudes like some food, don’t get stuck in your tubes

I can smell the blood in the pool, coming for wounds

Change the color of the lagoon hon' I’m becoming cruel

Nothing’s new under the sun and moon

It’s rough where I’m from you might wanna take the gun to school

Only a fool would assume that these thugs’ll adjust the rules

I’m sorry to bust your bubble but I’m a stubborn mule

I refuse to coon for some fuckin' views

Fly your head like a kite

Stretch the white when your bread light, breath is life

They ain’t salute Max until they gave him 75

What good is the credit if you can’t get it while you alive

Uh, niggas love to dick ride when you die

It’s just props, it ain’t a blow job my guy

Pops was wise, watch you idolize

You know what they say about an idle mind so don’t hop over the rifle line

Nigga

Nigga

Don’t get in my way, don’t get in my way

Don’t get in my way, get in my way

The shots gon' spray

If you get in my way, don’t get in my way

Don’t get in my way

When it was 17 a gram, if you shave it right you can make a yard

Mix the yay' with the baking soda to make it hard

Might go Goyard on the scarf, that’s a start

I play my hands like a card shark, palm the ace of hearts

Made my mark without taking part in the dark arts

We don’t partake in any cake that’s made with baking lard

In any shape or form, they some broads playing gangster lord

Chains on like whores, put makeup on their flaws

If your source is a broad then we all on the same accord

No change of coin can put these boys on this train of thought

Uh, champagne corks on the court yo

Old lady play with my balls ‘cause I ain’t one to make small talk

‘Specially baby not while the game is on

Dog they say I’m the greatest, it’s not to be taken with a grain of salt

Uh, motherfucker that’s a Fendi, I bust my gun ‘til it’s empty

100 round drum, this could be lengthy

MC’s are sent to me on one bent knee (kneel)

Heavy is the head they said when they met the king

Strawberry crush, red promethazine

Seventeen different revenue streams

I’m a much better pedigree

The last thing said to me from a enemy

Made me want to bulletproof ‘erything

The type of shit we on

Who give a fuck about your small town or them little blocks that you hustle on

I remain poised, my 40 cal' make a loud noise

All my niggas is cocaine cowboys

Don’t make me shoot up your one-horse town

Have intercourse with your bitch then drive my Porsche around

Have my enforcers lay my gangster down

72 ounces, a few pounds of loud

Any drama king keep a streetsweeper to control a crowd

Go to your local strip bar, throw a couple thou'

Put some fiends on a corner, have ‘em handing samples out

Give your team 36 ounces and tell ‘em break it down

When the product’s right and the tick' is good

You might see me in a hooptee, supplying your hood

In the kitchen with them fumes

Couple fiends, dirty needles and spoons

Bitches in different rooms, shittin' out balloons

I don’t think you niggas in tune

I’m on a different frequency

The streetsweeper don’t fit beneath the seat

The spliff we hit it it was dipped in PCP

Thieves stole bricks from the chief’s teepee

Fleed the scene but didn’t get off squeaky clean

You must be completely green, my hood wild like Cabrini-Green

Shit don’t come easy, everything you see is covered with graffiti

Your queen rubbed the meat to summon a genie

Being of somewhat of a diety she gon' kneel to me like these Jesus feet

It’s all written, this was preconceived

Even a priest gon' crease his knees to kiss the VV’s and the pinky ring

Bonafide hustler but I still chop the shotgun like a buzzcut

That’s for when push come to shove

You’re thrown under the bus pretty much

It’s litty, this all come from the left titty bruh