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    Yeah, Marci
    Yo

    Quit comparin' him with the mandem
    Wearin' everything on the Lanvin mannequin
    Did everything from scramblin' to pimpin' and panderin'
    Lettin' the hammer rinse
    Banana Panamera with the tints (With the tints)
    The Black Blake Carrington with the eighty-carat ring
    Baby was like: Ain't that what rabbits eat? (That what rabbits eat?)
    Rappers like crabs in a barrel
    Throwin' jabs on these apps, but I don't battle rap
    This here straw? This shit broke the camel's back in Iraq
    My mans crashed like the motorbike ain't have handles to grab
    Air your pad, stick blew every candle out in your flat
    Hot candle wax on your slacks (Uh)
    Left out of Saks, they said it was ransacked
    Hand of racks, pulled a vanishing act (Poof)
    I'm just tryna make the magic last
    Don't get caught in a trick bag
    Can't have one foot in rap and one in quicksand
    That shit don't make no sense, fam (Make no sense, fam)
    Watch the bitch you met on the 'Gram
    The witch'll sniff a gram off the pentagram
    Then stick the shiv in you like a Christmas ham (Ow)
    Dance with the devil, every step's a penitentiary chance (Ayy)
    Demons channeling my energy through a piece of hair
    Pair of sneakers or even streetwear, a tee and some pants
    Claim to have tea on me, but people ain't even care (People ain't even care)
    Yeah, yeah, he's a square, he weird
    Said: He weak in bed, he a piece of shit, he ain't even lit
    He a street pimp, don't think 'cause I be in the mix
    That I'm geeked to fit in, bitch, you reachin', eat a dick (Eat a dick)
    Please forgive my French (Uh)
    We cannot be friends if you ride the fence
    Gotta stay with the side you pick (Stay there)
    I been hip since the days of Thai Stick
    Back when Big Mama used to beat your behind with the switch
    Now the Glock nine, this shit got a switch
    Slugs hit your body and stick (Ooh)
    Sizzle like a pot of hominy grits

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    You got to learn who your true homies are and shit
    You got the jealous homies that don't want to see you come up
    You got the player haters, you got the crooked females who wanna set you up
    And then you got the niggas in general who just roll around, just lookin' for niggas period to Jack

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    Composición: Roc Marciano

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