Song Meaning

The lyrics paint a stark picture of a neighborhood defined by violence and illicit economies. The opening lines immediately establish a dangerous environment, contrasting the grim reality of "walk-by's and drive-by's" with the mundane act of selling "bean pies." This sets the stage for a narrative where survival and illicit gains are paramount, even leading to the tragic pronouncement that "Martin Luther King's dream died" in this very setting. The rapid ascent of a young figure, from a 15-year-old acquiring drugs to living in an "upper east side high-rise," highlights a desperate hustle that offers a fleeting escape from the projects, yet remains tethered to the violence, evidenced by the "4-5 stuffed in his Levi's" and the investigation by homicide. The core tension lies between the allure of wealth and the brutal consequences of the drug trade. The chorus acts as an invitation into this world, detailing "coke, dope and weed spots" and the ever-present threat of "guns cocked ready to squeeze high." This isn't just about making money; it's about navigating a landscape where "murder plots" are commonplace and survival means being armed. The lyrics suggest a cycle of violence and desperation, where quick riches are pursued at the cost of lives and dreams. Roc Marciano's verse introduces a more self-aware perspective, distinguishing himself as a "slinger" rather than just a "trapper," implying a higher level of operation and control. The imagery shifts to luxurious details like a "sapphire in the finger" and a "crib in Antigua," juxtaposed with the persistent threat of violence, as his "triggerman wears cheetah" and his "niggas hold heat like a fever." The contrast between the opulent lifestyle and the underlying danger is striking, especially when he mentions being "jammed up in Philly" and the grim discovery of bodies in trunks. The line "be on Twitter less" subtly critiques a superficial online presence versus the harsh realities of their world. Ultimately, these lyrics are effective because they offer an unflinching, granular look at a specific reality without romanticizing it. The detailed imagery, from the "velour sweatsuits" to the "heavy pistol in the Mitchell & Ness," grounds the narrative. The outro's raw lament, "Shit fucked up," and the acknowledgment that "All niggas know how to do is hustle" reveal a deep-seated frustration and a sense of being trapped by circumstance. It's a commentary on a system where the pursuit of survival often leads down a destructive path, leaving little room for alternative futures.

Roc Marciano & Knowledge The Pirate - Rap

Slingers

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[Verse 1: Knowledge The Pirate] Take a walk on my side the dark side Where niggas 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 killers 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 Filas 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 fucked with their case When they found him slumped in the trunk, shot in the face [Chorus: Knowledge the Pirate] Come talk a walk down these blocks With coke, dope and weed spots Guns cocked ready to squeeze high Uh, 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 niggas 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 sex A heavy pistol in the Mitchell & Ness Spit the best, be on Twitter less Triple X suplex, off the roof Mama I'm a juice head The coups' red, the crew still move from my tool shed This is truth, not bootleg The deuce-deuce is 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 fuck? [Outro: Roc Marciano] Got damn The fuck happened? Shit fucked up They should've taught us better than this, man We just out here, nigga All niggas know how to do is hustle, nigga Niggas ain't take no fuckin' college course [Chorus: Knowledge the Pirate] Come talk a walk down these blocks With coke, dope and weed spots Guns cocked ready to squeeze high Uh, thieves hoppin' out yellin' freeze stop Gunshots from out the rooftop, uh Murder plots for that money that's in the shoebox Come take a walk down these blocks

Credits

Writers: Roc Marciano
Knowledge The Pirate
Mic Raw

Slingers

Slingers

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Credits