Roc Marciano Flash Gordon Lyrics

Reloaded Track Listing
CD 1
  • 1 Tek to a Mack
  • 2 Flash Gordon
  • 3 Not Told
  • 4 Pistolier
  • 5 Thugs Prayer, Part 2
  • 6 76
  • 7 We Ill
  • 8 Deeper
  • 9 Death Parade
  • 10 20 Guns
  • 11 Peru
  • 12 Thread Count
  • 13 Nine Spray
  • 14 Emeralds
  • 15 The Man
  • Used to have to pitch
    Now I print cash with the bic
    The pad is a blank check
    Embrace death, taste flesh
    While the rhyme on the page is still wet
    Far from fictitious
    The cars attract the bitches
    I hear the whispers
    My palms got the blisters
    Buy the 45, you’re moisturized
    The oysters are fried
    Pull fives out the toybox
    Be as lonely at the top
    The watchband is croc
    The palace is a camelot
    Don’t ride the camel when it’s hot
    They channeling Pac
    My chairman scramble and rock
    While I dance to the Spanish guitar
    Spit the chorus
    To stimulate the whore’s clitoris
    It taste like porridge
    I felt rewarded from the man
    I ran from the warrant
    The high top Ewings is blue and orange
    Flash Gordon

    [Hook]
    We still getting it
    Piping dimes on the terrace
    I’m thinking about my life where it’s headin
    I sleep with heat under the pillow
    The cash is where I left it, it’s nothing
    I watch the city while I’m fucking
    I’m such a glutton
    Gucci buckets with the Chukkas motherfuckers

    As a dove flew out the glove of the magician
    It was just as I predicted
    Reality is prescripted
    Trees twisted
    Autistic, gorgeous hitmen
    Escort the vixen
    Porsches, Imported liquids
    To buy a snake and acquired taste
    We play for higher stakes
    Wine and dine by the fireplace
    Romantic, strawberries on the coke
    My chariot approach, I vanished
    Parlaying with the players
    Switch layers Mr. Rogers, galoshes
    Foxes to dance topless
    I hit the spot that’s erogenous, erotic
    Brolic hips hippopotamus
    Chocolate bitch
    The clock is a Swiss
    The chronic is lit
    Gin and tonic the mix
    The Benz is a 6
    Inside the Matrix, I’m the glitch
    357 with the rubber grip
    So when the beef pop
    The shit don’t slip

    [Hook]
    We still getting it
    Piping dimes on the terrace
    I’m thinking about my life where it’s headin
    I sleep with heat under the pillow
    The cash is where I left it, it’s nothing
    I watch the city while I’m fucking
    I’m such a glutton
    Gucci buckets with the Chukkas motherfuckers

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