Covid Cough Lyrics – Roc Marciano
Yeah, Pimpstead bitch, hold up
Know we on your ass, boy (Yeah, check)
[Hook: Roc Marciano]
Niggas play around ’til it’s man down (You and what army, nigga?)
I’m the illest nigga hands down
Air ’em out, air ’em out (Hold up)
Niggas play around ’til it’s man down
Uh, I’m the illest nigga hands down (Yup)
Air ’em out (Air ’em up) air ’em out
You know what we came for (You know why we here)
You know who gave the whore the cocaine jaw
What’s all the shade for? The numbers on the .380 was shaved off
Thirty shots sprayed off, take you off like a stray dog
Your days are short like your Range sport
Pop an Ace of Spades champagne cork (Pop that shit)
Paint your brain on the wall, the forty bulldog my aerosol
Knock a eyeball out your skull
Flush you out that hole you been hiding in (We see you hiding)
You high on the list, the homies gon’ fly your wig (Fly your shit)
Oh you must’ve forgot I’m rich, I’m a project kid
And you my next project, kid
Been should’ve had you fixed, should’ve had you a wrench
A drillbit, shit I ain’t did a drill in a bit (In a minute)
Give ’em a clip, bet he squeal like a pig, life’s a bitch
She tried to throw grits on a pimp and missed (You missed me, bitch)
Your shit is like ten percent diss, niggas is lit like a tennis link
Daddy you haven’t said anything (You ain’t said shit)
With the pen, they say I’m Hemingway, I’m a heavyweight
I’m better than niggas in every way
Sky-Dweller and this Perrier (Water) this the cherry on the cake
You most definitely getting spanked (Spankin’ these niggas)
After the gank, your old lady engage in hanky-pank
I’m in her pussy doing the stanky leg
You see? Fuck (Know what I’m sayin?)
Uh, Groovy, uh (Soo!)
How you don’t love me like the wind do?
You headphones, I’m hands-on
In and out the way I handle, huh
You flirtin’ with them candles, uh, you lookin’ ladylike
Pussy tryna swim with the sharks, nigga we Navy height
Barely seen but platinum and gold, nigga I’m really nice
The gat peeled, the white dove rose, I can make butter fly
I don’t have the time like those, rather make mothers cry
The hit maker, slid down home, because I’m certified
Bonafide to knock-knock door, tell me what homicide
Did numbers, swab my teeth like gold, nigga I rap a lot
Spin your block, you dry snitchin’ on the ‘Gram, you half a cop
I’m in the game, you tryna share my stats, huh?
I grab the drum out the backpack then boom-bap that, yeah
Normally I use it just to scratch my back, uh
Don’t gotta hang with rappers when your contract maxed, uh
Don’t need a hundred niggas when you built like that
Let’s get it, talkin’ out your ass, you must got me confused
‘Cause I will not lose, I got nothing to prove
I sold twenty, made twenty, I’m in the shadow of who?
I’m in the battle with who? That nigga sweeten my tooth
Just a rock in my shoe, can’t stumble my groove
Must I humble this dude? Bruh, I pity the fool
You can’t sit at my table, can’t be in my room
Just the must in my pits, tryna swing from my dick
Just the butt when I flick, Wagyu when I pick
Just a burp when I’m drunk, you the ash from the blunt
It don’t matter, the Klumps, all you niggas is lunch
I’m really one of the ones, I can never be done
I’m Groovy (Soo!)
COVID, nigga