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the horns of abraxas - roc marciano & the alchemist lyrics

[intro: ice*t]
okay, check this out, man, let me tell you a story
about doing a f*cking favor for a friend, right
he gave me a car, i start driving
he wanted me to dump it somewhere in long island
like out in some, you know
marsh or some wild field or some bullsh*t
that wasn’t something unexpected
’cause the n*gga been doing dirt for years
he gets in, he gets out, but this time it’s the feds
so i know it’s serious business
[verse 1: roc marciano]
heads or tails, death or jail
the road to success was h*ll
with the bones of the dead soldiers, we left a trail
your soul just left your sh*ll (woo)
the cobra shed it’s scales, the coke was pelle pelle (pelle)
the rose rollie pink champelle
handlin’ pills, sam cassell, slide on ’em (slide on ’em)
hit em’ up style, blu cantrell, you can’t tell? (right before your very eyes with no surprise)
uh, the final level like ice, this a zeitgeist
i bit the red mike and ike
put out your lights like you got hit by iron mike with the right
i’m just on the mic exorcising my rights (uh)
wild life, bite ya windpipe
i’m not the type you wanna pick up at night tryna hitchhike (uh)
look what i did with just a kitchen knife
the only thing missing was spice
i always had this particular vice (uh)

[interlude]
right before your very eyes with no surprise (talk)

[verse 2: roc marciano]
i fantasize about a fantacide (uh)
i’m standing over your dead parents fanning flies (woo)
the porsche panamera, it flies (it flies)
i’m wearing fear of god, but i don’t even fear god (woo)
the cardiologist can’t hear my heart (whoop)
i’m dark
did a lot of robberies in the skylark (yup)
left tire marks (skrrt)
all this ice, it don’t hide my scars
the firearm, it belong on a tripod (uh)
got this far without even trying hard
imagine if i apply my smarts
marci’
[outro: ice*t]
so i was gloved up, i ain’t left no prints in the motherf*cker
so i’m like, “yo, this sh*t is just abandoned”
so, my curiosity got to me
sayin’, “why does this sh*t stink?” right?
i pop the trunk, and listen, my n*gga
two dead bodies in the back of the trunk
plastic bags over they heads, covered in maggots
maggots, two dead motherf*ckers
i’m looking at this sh*t, i’m like, “this n*gga”

- roc marciano the alchemist lyrics

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