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Tek to a Mack - Roc Marciano

Tek to a Mack

Roc Marciano

00:00

04:42

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Lyric

[INTRO

Yeah, check, Marc

Back for the crown baby

AV that’s brown like gravy

Style is wavy

Lazy eye Tracy McGrady

Deliver like an 80 pound baby

I’m a horse, you a rope

I let off Macks

You crap in your clothing

Golden moments

Rolls Royce driver named Coleman

45 watch game frozen

Scared to death

Mad salty like a potato chip

You know the routine

I’m out to break a bitch

Over the stove with the bakers mitt

I’m still on that gangsta shit

Burning that dour

European footwear

I’m coming off a real good year

Kush in the air

Them niggas like books, Look square

I swear they don’t even got hood flare

I’m a natural, You little rascal

Homo swag, I wouldn’t put it past you

Changes invested, faith’s tested

I paid for the necklace and ate breakfast

My thoughts is pour torches left corpses

My chariot pulled by horses

Ya’ll doo-doo, I’ll sock it to you

Pierce your rib with the spear like Shaka Zulu

Cops pursue you

When you got pies like Lu Lu

Control a whore’s mind like voodoo

Suave, CL 5 grey in the driveways

Ménage à trois on Fridays

Peel bills consistent

And just to think I willed this into existence

Memories of being broke are now distant

I insisted biscuits

For all that I did to get rich then

I hope within you forgive the kid like a

Christian

To get rich then, I hope within

You forgive the kid like a

[Hook

From the deuce to the tre

From a tre to an eighth

From an A to a K to a 9 from a K

From a K to the grey, 45 all black

All black 45, from a tec to a mac

Big dinners, dilemmas

I ride in a Plymouth

Listening to the Spinners

I love the art but it’s a business

D’s trying to pin us

Cause what I do with the pen is stupendous

Young niggas look up to us like father figures

Design fly rhymes like architecture

Modern philosopher

The feds trying to pop at us

But ya’ll ain’t got the proper size nuts

Line me up without the iron cuff

Reclined in the truck

My mind like a diamond in the rough

Apply the cut gotta come up

Got to sit tough, Chronic is puff

Wallets is buff, I’m a stud

Dollars is spotted with blood

The nine snub

Should hold you out with thugs

You forgot what it was, huh?

Well bitch that’s what is though

Pitch em an O Lou Ferrigno, indo

Flowed out the benz

Tinted windows

Pimp bones

Exotic skin tones

Ear lobes flooded with gem stones

Money put in a hoes flip ten folds

Gotta stack it

Ya squad is at the bottom of the bracket

That’s why I keep the llama in the bomber

jacket

That’ll push yo whole yarmulke backwards

[Hook

From the deuce to the tre

From a tre to an eighth

From an A to a K to a 9 from a K

From a K to the grey, 45 all black

All black 45, from a tec to a mac

Gangsta Mack. Back.

- It's already the end -