We Ill Lyrics - Reloaded - Roc Marciano

Folding bills where I hone my skills 

I was a soldier in the field 

Where you only get to eat what you could kill 

I keep the steel in the clean Seville 

Bad bitch rolling off a E pill 

Treat a rich hoe like a cheap thrill 

We ill, we ill, we ill, we ill 

Ain't no love, and if it was 

I wouldn't own a snub and some gloves 

Seen niggas get plugged over the grub, 

Hoes got dug, your 0-5 bug will hit the mud 

I hit the pub, lifted the mug 

Bitches hit the club 

I slipped a clip in the gun 

Niggas on the run 

My skin don't get enough sun 

I had to winter my lungs to overcome 

I'm still paying for my past tense 

Sitting in the E class Benz 

Black ski mask, black timbs 

Platinum mac ten 

That'll shatter your Cadillac tints 

Strange days, cocaine's weighed by the eighth 

Young niggas is chased by the jakes 

Create freebase 

He bakes pies and cakes 

And fiends form lines to taste 

I played the A8 

While my primates decides your fate 

And killed the vampire with the steak 

I'm a threat behind the designer specs 

Fly, you might find me in a spiderweb 

Don Juan dialect, Hawaiian dime 

Got her by the neck 

What's your pimping worth? 

When you pick the lint off shirts 

Whores disperse for kids 

To put the fork in dessert 

For talking, I put the Porsche in reverse 

Flesh get tossed into the Earth 

After I draw and squirt 

I plant my feet upon foreign dirt 

Roll up the purp, with a smart "fuck you" smirk 

I lift the Rosé up til the muscles burn 

Hustle and earn 

The handle on the thirty two is pearl 

Do a set of concentration curls 

High fashion, climaxing on satin 

The outside of the tilapia was blackened 

Share the gift, wood gear shift 

I appear in the mist 

Then dip like Tokyo Drift 

Caress the fifth like Professor Griff 

Texture is slick 

Ten in your whip 

Now may you rest with the fish 

Squeeze glocks for stocks, three quarter fox 

Thick big pitbull jawlock, I'm the warlock 

My lines go for ten a pop like orange tops 

Fuck you niggas with a horse's cock 

I'm taking mines off the top 

Whores watch as we board the yacht 

Like George C. Scott, Ciroc 

Five drops of olive oil in the wok 

Presidential watch, call it Barack 

Black face shit, with the invisible locks 

To get you shot just like the Hitchcock plot 

We ill, we ill, we ill, we ill 

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