Roc Marciano - Slingers lyrics

[Verse 1: Knowledge The Pirate] Take a walk on my side the dark side Where n***as do walk-by's and drive-by's On the corner selling bean pies, no bow ties Mayweather fight, sitting ringside This is were the k**ers reside The drug dealers collide, and Martin Luther King's dream died Son was 15 and copped a green five By 16 moved out the projects to the east side Moved to that upper east side and leased a high rise Son was young and fresh with mob ties (ugh) Velour sweatsuits [?] Waves spinning like a Beehive (ugh) Hopped out of the X6 jumped in a G5 To drop off some pies in the projects on the west side Somewhere's a Jesus knee high 4-5 stuffed in his Levi's no evidence from CSI Investigated by homicide (ugh) Wanted by the FBI For the murder of a CI who never did testify So it f**ed with their case When they found him slumped in the trunk, shot in the face Come talk a walk down these blocks With coke, dope and weed spots Guns co*ked ready to squeeze high Thieves hoppin' out yellin' freeze stop Gunshots from out the rooftop (ugh) Murder plots for that money that's in the shoebox Come take a walk down these blocks [Verse 2: Roc Marciano] I'm not a trapper i'm a slinger Sapphire in the finger, crib in Antigua My triggerman wears cheetah Sicilian, not a square like a square pizza My wrist glare i'm a rare creature Dip the police, tear a sneaker My n***as hold heat like a fever From here it's all downhill like a skier Line the whips up, talking to Siri in the 8 series With Katie and her fake titties Sippin' Remy on the rocks Monclaire when the airs chilly From playing willy got jammed up in Philly Split em' open like a filling, feel the fury They find you in a trunk in Missouri, all smelly Solicitor of flesh, ridiculous s** A heavy pistol in the Mitchell & Ness Spit the best [?] Triple X suplex, off the roof Mama i'm a juice head The coups' red The crew still move from my tool shed This truth not bootleg The deuce-deuce in the boot by the leg Fly the shoe-head spread Guns WonderBread, it's under the bed Plus a couple in the Dufflebag Take a better look, i'm peddling cook Fiends shooting Heroin in the foot Still play it by the book The grey tops bottled up The hood swallows it up, what the f**?