The Appetite (feat. Roc Marciano, Quelle Chris & Danny Brown)

Once again Show it, show it, show it, show it You a weapon, I'm up in the bed blowin' head My shit a hundred percent I'm a boss, I'm not a underling Got a hundred links in the infantry (Let 'em in) My niggas gon' ride until the engines cease Victory is ceased, bitches striptease I might try a 50 on a pinky ring Pull up like, "Where the hoes?" Take out a-holes Don't you ever compare me to those sambos Cut the top off the rose, call it Amber Rose I got so many hoes I'm like the lead singer in Cameo But I don't taste like candy though Tanned peacoat tapped in, sold Miami coke Cherry nine elevens, got a lot of weapons My lady thighs make her look hind-legged Exotic pet, she like a wild leopard F it, I might let off a couple hollow heads for leverage This is effortless, you bein' extra Niggas say, "Wavy", that's an S curl Punt, make make your chest curl Finesse your girl, you leave a flesh world Sends you up, boy Ocean's Eleven type, If we see it, we want it, then we take it Blame the appetite for Sex, money, drugs, sex, money, drugs Ocean's Eleven type, If we see it, we want it, then we take it Blame the appetite for Sex, money, drugs, sex, money, drugs Sex, money, drugs, sex, money, drugs Sex, money, drugs, sex, money, drugs Uh, Mr. Bubble