Willie Manchester

Lyrics

[Intro: Mega] Yeah, yeah Yeah, yeah Yeah, uh (Runway Boyz!) [Verse 1: Mega] I'm tryna eat 'til I increase my bank's guap 'Til I'm obese and hopping out of that tan drop (Rollin') Invest like I was wearing a tank top Since they all sheep, I'll turn these fuckers to lamb chops Create a major verse, my main concern, watch the blazer burn Plastic rappers to ashes, and make an urn (Scoldin') Wanna be luxury living? Wait your turn Ballin'? They on a commission, David Stern A scar on my face but no, I ain't Al Pacino I'm hotter than boarding flights to Puerto Rico with kilos Roc Marci, Mayhem and Cito, we don't play Leave that shit to a casino with me, okay? Ay, ay, I ain't the one you wanna stunt on Fendi trench at any event, come on (Reversible) Pull the shotty out, then I buss rounds So when you're hearing them buck shots, just duck down [Verse 2: Mayhem] Hot topic, groupies gossip that I'm hot shit My Moroccan chick that shoplifts always got bits Average retailers wouldn't stock this Off the top, turnbuckles how I drop kicks On my rock shit, I stage dive into mosh pits So fly, she takin' plane rides on my cockpit Alien, fuck a slut from Terrace Projects In an unidentified foreign object! 80s poses, we squat for the cameras I'm a bachelor, thirst is not in my character (Suave) So ill, I should be quarantined Now they fear me like I stepped out a horror scene Fuck an iPod, I'm getting you touched The weapons is tucked for any nigga steppin' to us AK behind the painting, ready to buck My new titles Count Runway, address me as such [Verse 3: Roc Marciano] Uh, let the shotgun smoke, sprinkle the coke Life's like a tight rope, it's nice to know the right white folk Check and trap, I'm like Kenny Red with the mouthpiece Copped a house out in South Beach, move powder with loud heat Plow your whore at the mo' like a foot of snow It's like a free-throw, thousand-dollar fee show, piece glow Magnifico, keep a freak, she from Puerto Rico Sniff perico, with the fatty, she petit though, deep throat Coolin' out blowin' Cubans with druids, my ice kinda blue-ish Vuitton Louis, the newest, move fluent Thread the needle with the Eagle, shoot it Police feud it, my hate for Ds is deep rooted Dsquared ski wear, then leave your stare medium rare Fuck being fair, it's best to beware Clap your tummy, crash dummy, I'm in that black thing sittin' lovely Prettier than a bag of money, buddy [Outro: Roc Marciano] Marc, bumbaclot