Roc Marciano - Move Dope lyrics

[Intro] All these rappers out here, rapping about the horror thing They got that from the pimp They got that from the movies They got that from the pimps, you know They're not pimps (They're not pimps at all?) Rappers are rappers Pimps are pimps Dope dealers are dope dealers Hoes are hoes, real ones The real sh** is the real sh** (Rosebud) [Verse 1] It is what it is, f** what it could have been Read the bulletin, you just some sh** to put some bullets in Fill the clips, you push this in Look what I did here with a book and pen Might stomp you, leave a Gucci footprint They groom the pimp to Bergdorf Goodman The handle on the burner wooden n***a, ain't no what-ifs It's all real, there ain't no other way to put it n***as p**y, they don't wanna see us masked up and hooded n***as better off sneak dissin' If we was kids I might send you home with ya sneakers missin' Listen B, don' leave your b**h with me, she easy pickings Fo sheezy, I do you greasy like Chinese chicken Smoke blunts back to back, wore hunchback The bag made the bungee cord snap Pull up the foreigns with my gorgeous a** My smile's porcelain, my hood's a gauntlet Be like them my sh** more lit, it's orange (Glowing baby!) I'ma say this once and once only I'm a control freak I got mind control over freaks Two hands to secure the mag, dog it's on You just pray we don't cross paths, scorch your a** Moisture splash on the dash you jacka** I'm just crackin' crabs thanks to all the crackheads Y'all n***as might need A&Rs Spray ARs at quasars, you was made with a paper heart The purple haze in a mason jar What you take me for, some waiter with a tablecloth? My sable hang to the floor The velour I wore is made by Liz Claiborne Listen baby doll, you get what you paid for [Hook] Feel like I got a license to move dope I feel like I got a license to move dope I feel like I got a license to move dope [Verse 2] n***as pull the plan and start spraying sh** You don't care who you aim and hit, what you an atheist? Maybe its the AP that lay on the wrist My leather avi' soft as baby sh** Cop the Range threw the Mercedes in for 80 cent Move like a kingpin from '86 I'm all covered up with gator and mink The pump shottie made your body stink, I'm linked There's no honor amongst thieves or camaraderie Small 2 5's in the sleeve surprisingly You ain't awake to see them gangstas made of ivory My three-eight's my gangsta ID You can't hide what the naked eye see Jamaican lady whine for me Two biscuits like it's time for tea I'm like Ice-T times three, drop 'em somewhere to die in peace Let's set the record straight, you date hoes on Section 8 My s**ual mates, they own real estate I'm everything you n***as ain't