"Trillion Cut" lyrics
Roc Marciano & The Alchemist Lyrics
(feat. Boldy James)
[Boldy James:]
Where we at?
It's Jackson
227
Charismatic, in love with them sweet aromatics (Opp pack)
Infatuated with Rolodexes, Audemars Piguets, Cartiers, and Pateks
It's hard to steer the traffic, stuck in the ghetto with fiends
Where selling dope was my only revenue stream
My double cup forever dirty (Pour it up), my hands never was clean
Me and G on Stockwell, filthy as Rockwell (Bruh, bruh)
Turn an eye on high fresh out a dry spell (Yeah)
Bop it twice, then drop it in a pot like some oxtail
Then you add the cold water with the ice cube (Skrrt)
Taxing niggas on the split, I want the high twos
Still sendin' off Gelatos and them OG's
Poppin' off 'bows of exotic for the low threes (Zaza)
Me and Holiday them kids with the dirty shoes (Holi')
Now its turnarounds in the tin with them thirty blues
'Fore I ever touched a beam, I was servin' food (Ayy)
Thousand grams of cut with morphine, that's my current mood
[Roc Marciano:]
Ooh
Cut the product with fentanyl (Cut it)
Spray your block up and spit at you
Fuck all the ridicule
Spray and get rid of you
Ooh
Cut the product with fentanyl
Fuck all the ridicule
Spray your block up and spit at you
Uh, ooh
Niggas swear they can't be touched
'Til the jammy bust, fuck your lil' fantasy up
We was wearing Champion, but they never championed us
Outcast, I don't even give my family a hug
They say, "Home is where the heart is"
But where is your home when you heartless?
I'm just bein' whole-hearted, I need the AR with the shoulder harness on it (Uh)
Sorry I'm being cold hearted, all I know is to audit
It snowed at my apartment, the sofa was hard as a park bench
But even while starving, I wouldn't beg your pardon
Copped the new watch, I'm on suicide watch
A trillion cuts like I'm tryin' to die
Put you on ice, we don't let the drama slide (Nah)
Step on the product, electronic slide
We could never share a common bond (Never)
My pops had tracks in his arms from heroin
This is rap meets Gil Scott-Heron (Rap Heron)
Black Bugatti Veyron, the leather in the car was eggnog
The vest I wore was Kevlar (Woo)
The scarf was a gift from Pablo Escobar
These ain't no regular old bars, this a five star restaurant
Marci'
Where we at?
It's Jackson
227
Charismatic, in love with them sweet aromatics (Opp pack)
Infatuated with Rolodexes, Audemars Piguets, Cartiers, and Pateks
It's hard to steer the traffic, stuck in the ghetto with fiends
Where selling dope was my only revenue stream
My double cup forever dirty (Pour it up), my hands never was clean
Me and G on Stockwell, filthy as Rockwell (Bruh, bruh)
Turn an eye on high fresh out a dry spell (Yeah)
Bop it twice, then drop it in a pot like some oxtail
Then you add the cold water with the ice cube (Skrrt)
Taxing niggas on the split, I want the high twos
Still sendin' off Gelatos and them OG's
Poppin' off 'bows of exotic for the low threes (Zaza)
Me and Holiday them kids with the dirty shoes (Holi')
Now its turnarounds in the tin with them thirty blues
'Fore I ever touched a beam, I was servin' food (Ayy)
Thousand grams of cut with morphine, that's my current mood
[Roc Marciano:]
Ooh
Cut the product with fentanyl (Cut it)
Spray your block up and spit at you
Fuck all the ridicule
Spray and get rid of you
Ooh
Cut the product with fentanyl
Fuck all the ridicule
Spray your block up and spit at you
Uh, ooh
Niggas swear they can't be touched
'Til the jammy bust, fuck your lil' fantasy up
We was wearing Champion, but they never championed us
Outcast, I don't even give my family a hug
They say, "Home is where the heart is"
But where is your home when you heartless?
I'm just bein' whole-hearted, I need the AR with the shoulder harness on it (Uh)
Sorry I'm being cold hearted, all I know is to audit
It snowed at my apartment, the sofa was hard as a park bench
But even while starving, I wouldn't beg your pardon
Copped the new watch, I'm on suicide watch
A trillion cuts like I'm tryin' to die
Put you on ice, we don't let the drama slide (Nah)
Step on the product, electronic slide
We could never share a common bond (Never)
My pops had tracks in his arms from heroin
This is rap meets Gil Scott-Heron (Rap Heron)
Black Bugatti Veyron, the leather in the car was eggnog
The vest I wore was Kevlar (Woo)
The scarf was a gift from Pablo Escobar
These ain't no regular old bars, this a five star restaurant
Marci'
