Patina - The Purist, Roc Marciano

Groans from the cellar- my a cappella

My bitch a wild cat, only i could pet her

Pocket full of cheddar, popular sweater, popped the sheriff

Its all about buyers and sellers, condominiums with high ceilings

Proud villains

Blowing lines out in Venice, my grill got grimace, this shit is business

Niggas' pretenders

I rock in linen with sinners, flip the slippers

I do ya misses something malicious its sacrilegious

Sport the tux like daddy warbucks, got a horses' nuts

This shit is real, it’s more than us just talking tough

Im talking that stuff

That stuff that’s sure to get you tossed up

Torched up, long gun

That 21 right in there cumbersome

And when im done back in the cummerbund

Pull out the hummer when the summers done

Im summoned this is death of the becoming

But reoccurring

Nigga ya g ain’t even current

Im blowing european currant

You’ll be encouraged

These are gifts of being coloured

In your own inequity you’re being punished

Only relate to results im putting faith in the cult

Escape with snake on the cloak, my taste for dope is like a scapegoat

Break the note, able to fold

Dis my nigga’s soul

Shake his soul

Its taken its toll

I wrote this taking a stroll

A couple shakers on the payroll, jays rolled

Range rove, the split is suede raincoat

Hop out the rover like a stagecoach

Like one of jesse james folks

12 shots by my physical equator

Thats two six shooters

Niggas wanna do me like jesus and judas

Ma fucka