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"It's A Crime" lyrics by ROC MARCIANO
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"It's A Crime"

I got my eyes on you. Pies are ordered. Lines are snorted, eyes watered
Got source with 5's and the quarters hittin ya'll corners. Risin' on 'em like high waters
My supporters is side call 'em. Hold, steady eye ballin. Coke with da army him in any pop warnin'
Pop coke, 45 nine taurus. Cops is on us. Niggas out kickin' up top soil
Two Glocks on 'em, we're now warrin'. Five Warrens, ride foreign, car soarin'
My performance, we stealin', ya'll borin'. See da seal and start pealin'. Like an orange
My appearance is not syrup. You starin', when I'm starin' instead of glarin'
Like hard castle and Mccormicks. You prolly corded, if not recorded
My eyes soarin' like Deon Warrens. You lie dormant, let the whores in for us
Young Cummares like Don Pores. Ar de pora. Hoes offer to drink my urine
It's 'cern that I'm stern. The fern got ya bitch kitten purrin'
It's like I'm pimpin' and servin' once the dicks inserted. She turned to a whole different person
Dig in purses. Image worship. That's like our church is. You can tell I'm a pimp by how my shirt fit

Keep it open like the zipper broken. Sit low up in the nickel loaded. With' da pistol loaded...
Doin' crime all the time. Doin crime all the time. Doin crime all the time

Clutchin' the tech, bustin ya head. Know when you're fuckin' with' me, your fuckin' with da best. Cuttin' ya neck, blood on the deck. Just give a hunned percent. Shouldn't expect nuttin' less. Gun is kept under the sweats. When I'm done stuffin' ya chest, nuttin' is less. Ya underdressed, run to the nest, cover ya breasts. Mumblin, stressed, under ya breath. Money to get, 20's and 10's. Luxury benz, buttery timbs with' da vest. Skully. Truthfully I'm a bully. My ex said I was a mess. Yet, very tastefully dressed. If I must say so myself. It's like I'm layin wealth. Bathin in silk. Gator on hat, shoes, and the belt. What else? Food in the velt. What else? Food in the stare you chewed like a meal. Eludin the ville, removed out the will. 2 is Cassille, the mood is Brazil. Shootin' to kill, you dudes hit da grill. N! @gas is food for real troops, still. In the ville, I'm in a deville, in the field, you pushin' up daffodils. Laughin' still. I'm blowin. I'm wearin rose gold, chromey out the coat, pokin'

Keep it open like the zipper broken. Sit low up in the nickel loaded. With' da pistol loaded...
Doin' crime all the time. Doin crime all the time. Doin crime all the time

Uh. Straight G shit. Shout out to my physical bliss.

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