I Shot The King Lyrics - Reloaded - Roc Marciano

Real nigga play the field with the long.40 

Gator coat like a pimp dressed so gordy 

Jumpin' out a gold 640 this is his story 

Bitch I'm in it for the chips and the glory 

The listeners adore me, fly hoes lay before me 

You're not fit to put your heel in a Mauri 

You're rich but you're still corny 

My crib sit by the rock quarry 

I'm up twenty five stories 

Tied in with the shooters, niggas know the resume 

Red Chevrolet, AK, no pepper spray 

We shade, see through your image like an X-Ray 

Collect a pay where the Mets play 

The chain hang by the chest plate, ignorant shit 

Quarter million on the wrist 

Throw you in the water with the fish 

Paint the town, let the cape hang down 

Let it spray round, dip the jake 

Run the hood, dictate, how my dick taste? 

Great, squished grapes, move at a swift pace 

Get cake, they imitate, break the template 

Like an eighth, the blade hit the freebase 

Treat the brick like an inmate face 

Run the break like David Wingate 

Get your shit straight 

Squeeze the fifth like a thick snake 

Fixate, nice whips for a rich slave 

Bang, brain hang like ding-a-ling 

Bring the banger, every day's like a cliffhanger 

Tip the waiter, grace like an ice skater 

Nice, late night, dice shaker 

Meet the maker, price, light paper 

Tight, slice pies, I'm a baker 

Polite nature, the waves with the light taper 

.45 that's a life changer 

I swung in on a chandelier 

As we sat there on his throne 

He turned his head and 

Shouted Oh No 

Realize the fact 

I ain't never comin' back (This some good shit nigga) 

I shot the king 

I shot the king 

Hit 'em up, jump in the truck 

Play the cut, caked up 

My beige gators got scraped up 

Laces up from the [?] corrupt 

Lift the cup, your feet go up at the Key Club 

Keep the snub, sleep snug 

Release slugs while my ladybug steam in the tub 

Give me some guns and a mean plug 

The team grub, twist the green shrub 

Roll a whole dub 

Put on the gloves because cut drugs 

With the thugs before I had peach fuzz 

Movin' on your turf with the good work 

Silk shirt, 'Lo quilt, you get killed 

Lift a fuck nigga kilt, blood spilled 

Hit the milf, left covered in filth 

You're dead with the pistol concealed 

In the pen field. spin your top like a pinwheel 

Sit still nigga chill with' a bitch like Ms. Brazil 

It's a feel like a young Lauryn Hill 

Cut the body at the sawmill 

Every song is a will, my life's on film 

I write what I feel, did my time in the field 

My mind full of diamonds, it's filled 

Sniff the fish in a crisp bill 

It's the real, swift with the steel 

Kendall Gill with' the pill, I shoot good from the field 

Never miss, never will, click your heels 

It's a deal, quick get your wig peeled 

You got fucked, how the dick feel? 

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Photos