Covid Cough Lyrics – Roc Marciano
Yeah, Pimpstead ***, 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, ***?)
I’m the illest *** hands down
Air ’em out, air ’em out (Hold up)
Niggas play around ’til it’s man down
Uh, I’m the illest *** 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 *** the *** 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 ***)
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 *** on the list, the homies gon’ fly your wig (Fly your ***)
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, *** 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 ***
She tried to throw grits on a pimp and missed (You missed me, ***)
Your *** is like ten percent diss, niggas is lit like a tennis link
Daddy you haven’t said anything (You ain’t said ***)
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 *** doing the stanky leg
You see? *** (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
*** tryna swim with the sharks, *** we Navy height
Barely seen but platinum and gold, *** 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, *** 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 *** 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 ***
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, ***