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 f*ckers 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 sh*t 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 sh*t
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 sh*t, I stage dive into mosh pits
So fly, she takin' plane rides on my c*ckpit
Alien, f*ck a sl*t 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
f*ck an iPod, I'm getting you touched
The weapons is tucked for any n*gga 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
f*ck 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