Roc Marciano - Respect My Gun lyrics

{Verse 1 – Royce da 5’9″} Competition fail hard ’cause I got real bars Like Barbarians y’all looking like male far Or carry ’em while I’m chilling abroad with a broad that’s Bulgarian With my d-ck in her jaw is giving her heart failure Looking at the down under like living in Australia With no feelings involved, like Lauryn Hill k**ing us soft I score at will but when you this fly it’s either limit, the sky Or the unlimited fall, feel like I’m living the life of the infamous raw Criminal who’s been spinning inside the mirror in the sky Suspended in time like the General Zod Connoisseur of the finest colognes, call me the chemical lord Pure artist and it’s for sure, dog {Chorus – Royce da 5’9″} You ain’t gotta respect me But you better not disrespect my Motherfu–ing gun {Verse 2 – Royce da 5’9″} God of the semi-automatic but yo a-s bet not call me no semi-god I’m sipping on Guinness while sitting in the synagogue Tall spending, living large “living large” And it’s the yard, n***as long winded I’m getting in my car and I’m skrrting off “skrrting off” Convict around bricks of raw I keep the same down chick around different tours I tore down sh** before now the sh-t be more Cause now ya boy sounds just matured And your sh-t for clowns, CB4, I don’t know, Rihanna, Rita Ora Either or, it’d be an honor to be a fly on either wall Of these giant divas anytime you see the dogs Call the hyenas, we at war {Chorus – Royce da 5’9″} You ain’t gotta respect me But you better not disrespect my Motherfu–ing gun {Verse 3 – Roc Marciano} Facts, I might air you a gas, dunk your body out on Fairfax Play the trap laid on the air mat before rap I had the .44 mag in the velour bag Bag of bi–hes had ’em bickering and back and fourth This ain’t badminton, I had to admit that sh** bad for business I like ’em bad and send your women, friend get apprehended It’s clear as wind that I done mastered this pimping Hopped out the albino rhino I don’t buy no clothes with rhinestones I’m too refined, I’m not common folk Ferragamo robe, my skin rose gold I was rocking moto 7 years ago, you ni–as slow Just dig the hole and don’t be difficult I keep the .40 Colt for hopes to get me smoked {Chorus – Royce da 5’9″} You ain’t gotta respect me But you better not disrespect my Motherfu–ing gun {Interlude – Royce da 5’9″ & DJ Premier} PRhyme “Ride out” {Chorus – Royce da 5’9″} You ain’t gotta respect me But you better not disrespect my Motherfu–ing gun