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Singles


Artist: Roscoe
Total songs: 5
Year:

Smooth Sailin' Lyrics - Singles - Roscoe

Now I'm so high, and I'm so fly 

My kids on deck, and my beard ain't grow yet 

I'm so on point; I'm so on one 

This is how we do here in philaphornia 

Young scoe Mack, toe back 

The one ya'll love to blow back 

I'll got five fingers, it ain't no riddle 

By the only one showing is the one in the middle 

Hey diddle diddle, the cat and the dog 

Going at it over kittle out in the back yard 

I drink yak hard, ya'll ack hard 

Now I gotta touch up like a Mack card 

Everybody packing a strap or spark 

But don't everybody wanna strap or spawl 

I'm ol' school with it, no tool with it 

Head up til we feed up that's all 

Smooth sailin' 

 

You know you got me moving 

I'll know you feel my music 

I'll show my gs in fluids, All I do is spits fluids 

I'm rolling, dipping, smashing 

I'm throwing young assassin 

I'm growing up will fast and 

All I know is flow and rappin' 

They call me young roscoe the Philly fanatic 

Silly sporadic, dippin in traffic, grippin the matic 

Sharp as a guillotine, still a teen 

The California sun just beaming as I lean 

Pull out my cigarettes feigning for nicotine 

Straight of the Philly scene, Made for the silver screen 

And I beam, my foot on the gasoline 

Tell me I ain't the fliest M.C's you seen 

And it's all smooth sailin' 

 

Y. A. I Blaze 

Step to us you get five days 

I got four homies ain't none of them simple 

Scold dizzle, known to make the microphone sizzle 

Too many women after the Mack 

I'm ma just kick one (What's Up) 

We smash in my momma 'lac 

Accurate with a maculate bash, The cake masher 

Def Jeff let me borrow the keys 

The great master 

Young and I'm buck wild label as a luck child 

Running them up wild laying hell of cuts now 

I get the clubs shut down with this thug style 

I puff clouds and touch crowds what now 

Sick rhymes strict nines running thru my bloodline 

Pedal to the metal with one time behind (Yeah) 

My head spinning like a windmill 

Rollin down the 101 counting dead bugs on my windshield 

Smooth Sailin' 

Writer: ,

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