Roc Marciano - Panic lyrics

[Hook] I can feel it when the wind blow In the Benzo hangin' out the window You know n***a how the sh** goes Get a hundred from the hip bone [Verse 1: Roc Marciano] True G's, boots and army fatigues n***as cooped up in the P's like sardines Ain't no palm trees, and this ain't R and B We sippin Dom P listenin' to Ron G n***a we rep the far east, spark the beef like a cookout It won't digest correct, no di-doubt I put my foot down in any event and kick a dent Then stick a pen in your blimp, now witness the strength Til I whip in a bent, my dogs gon' pick up a scent And this isn't French, but n***as have to kiss the ring And momma said there would be days like this And if p**y taste like fish don't give her no dick Clock a grip, watch a clip, friends and biz don't mix And the big gold ring got the Flintstone bling Wrist glow pink gold fat like the disco three For real it's like my sh** don't stink [Hook] It was a panic at the disco Thirty two shots yeah that's what the clip hold I could feel it when the wind blow In the Benzo hangin' out the window [Verse 2: Roc Marciano] Well it's the creme de la creme, put me on a scale of one to ten Friend, I'm the bomb with a short stem It's on again, you'll be gone with the wind Tryin' to come at me crooked you'll get caught in the end It's important to win cuz raw is for men Not boys and girls and tricks are for kids I got you like a jigsaw dig The hoes I'm like Fillmore Slim Must I reveal more sin, and peel caps back like raw skin I kick doors in, and hip toss n***as like kids Plus I'm light skinded like Prince, ready to let the Mac 10 rinse As I sat behind the black tints, Califat the mack that's him The rap crack kingpin the grim The Max Payne grin the slave ships n***as ain't sh** they gave in [Hook] It was a panic at the disco Thirty two shots yeah that's what the clip hold I could feel it when the wind blow In the Benzo hangin' out the window If you ain't know this is how the sh** go n***a we shootin' from the hip bone With the pistol stickin' up the rich folk Panic at the disco [Verse 3: Roc Marciano] Steel cage match, peel waves back Reveal a eight pack black, gangster mack Had a suitcase crack, ASAP get aimed at Hardbody never came fat, grey Ac Cocaine rap, my way up in a Maybach mat and lay back Lemonade gla**, spank a**, and put crack on the ave n***a I'm stackin that cash, but who knew it would happen that fast And cats ain't addin' up the math, but came back clappin' at your pad Just for rappin' that bad, and no way you should get a hood pa** For kickin' that bullsh**, and brag And act like I can't see that that's flab We can't collab with that crab n***as ain't G, they lack swag So I got to bring the black mag and dead pop three in your fat a** [Hook] [Production by Roc Marciano]