Roc Marciano We Ill 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
  • Folding bills where I hone my skills
    I was a soldier in the field
    Where you only get to eat what you could kill
    I keep the steel in the clean Seville
    Bad bitch rolling off a E pill
    Treat a rich hoe like a cheap thrill
    We ill, we ill, we ill, we ill
    Ain’t no love, and if it was
    I wouldn’t own a snub and some gloves
    Seen niggas get plugged over the grub,
    Hoes got dug, your 0-5 bug will hit the mud
    I hit the pub, lifted the mug
    Bitches hit the club
    I slipped a clip in the gun
    Niggas on the run
    My skin don’t get enough sun
    I had to winter my lungs to overcome
    I’m still paying for my past tense
    Sitting in the E class Benz
    Black ski mask, black timbs
    Platinum mac ten
    That’ll shatter your Cadillac tints
    Strange days, cocaine’s weighed by the eighth
    Young niggas is chased by the jakes
    Create freebase
    He bakes pies and cakes
    And fiends form lines to taste
    I played the A8
    While my primates decides your fate
    And killed the vampire with the steak
    I’m a threat behind the designer specs
    Fly, you might find me in a spiderweb
    Don Juan dialect, Hawaiian dime
    Got her by the neck
    What’s your pimping worth?
    When you pick the lint off shirts
    Whores disperse for kids
    To put the fork in dessert
    For talking, I put the Porsche in reverse
    Flesh get tossed into the Earth
    After I draw and squirt
    I plant my feet upon foreign dirt
    Roll up the purp, with a smart “fuck you” smirk
    I lift the Rosé up til the muscles burn
    Hustle and earn
    The handle on the thirty two is pearl
    Do a set of concentration curls
    High fashion, climaxing on satin
    The outside of the tilapia was blackened
    Share the gift, wood gear shift
    I appear in the mist
    Then dip like Tokyo Drift
    Caress the fifth like Professor Griff
    Texture is slick
    Ten in your whip
    Now may you rest with the fish
    Squeeze glocks for stocks, three quarter fox
    Thick big pitbull jawlock, I’m the warlock
    My lines go for ten a pop like orange tops
    Fuck you niggas with a horse’s cock
    I’m taking mines off the top
    Whores watch as we board the yacht
    Like George C. Scott, Ciroc
    Five drops of olive oil in the wok
    Presidential watch, call it Barack
    Black face shit, with the invisible locks
    To get you shot just like the Hitchcock plot
    We ill, we ill, we ill, we ill

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