Paroles Slingers Roc Marciano

Slingers

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 [?]
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
Come talk a walk down these blocks
With coke, dope and weed spots
Guns cocked 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

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 [?]
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 fuck?