Ric Martel

(album: Supreme Blientele - 2018)

[Westside Gunn:]
Grr

Ayo, George Condo's in the condo
I can cook coke with my eyes closed
The Beemer grill Ron English (skr)
Whole brick for 28, look like we bleached it
Leather strings in the Tinkers
A wig rocking the weight, shot him out the gate
The jumper got no breaks
Park inside the shake
Rose, fuck around with the pink face
Standing on the couch with the pink gates
The bitches love the neck drip
Clip and the TEC flip, my shooter only sniff the best shit (grr)
Put the brains out for the extras (boom boom boom boom boom boom boom boom boom boom)
TEC wrapped in the Hermes handkerchief
Excuse a nigga excellence

[Roc Marciano:]
Alright
Nigga, fuck that, kill his ass, nigga

Well, if you must know, bucko
I bust the pump, slugs stuck in your stucco
Shells all in your home and humble abode
Uh oh, we all know opinions is like buttholes (waxed)
On another note, I stay clean while the mud was thrown
Thought I was low, my cover was blown (you say)
Like a note on the old trombone
Don't make me rub your nose, the funds I hold
I count so much dough, my thumbs are swole (shit)
Stole the summers, drove road runners
Keep the TEC, might heat one half of the Cocoa Brothers (what up, Tek)
My leather coat feel like cocoa butter (yeah)
This is culture, my folks was smoking the butter (wow)
The pole come with a muffler (facts)
I send them hoes back to you, broken, roughed up
Pistol whipped your dog and broke the gun
Spoke in tongues just like [?] buns
The buns was dark, shit ain't no bubble gum
They never seen us coming like a sucker punch
Uh, I got the game and the fiends (smoke 'em out)
These ain't Supreme, these sneakers 80 Gs
Baby please (please)
Please get off my dick, baby