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adidas tracksuit - rocky "roc" vandergriff lyrics

[hook: roc]
chillin’ in the cut in my adidas tracksuit
chillin’ in the cut in my adidas tracksuit
chillin’ in the cut in my adidas tracksuit
chillin’ in the cut in my adidas tracksuit, ah!
feelin’ like run-dmc
feelin’ like run-dmc
feelin’ like run-dmc
feelin’ like run-dmc

[verse 1: roc]
give me the chance to impress you, i’ve only begun
and like a cyclops with eyedrops, i only need one
blow boof ’til i’m brain dead, with fools i don’t break bread
got so many styles, y’all can take y’all pick, jpeg
repping k!ll the mic, i’mma k!ll it right, then i’m finna write it’s eulogy
y’all ain’t ’bout to last, y’all just pound and dash, no amount of cash is foolin’ me
medicated off the sticky icky, grab the jay and hit it quickly
ugly mug, that’s probably why no girls be tryna give me kitty
it’s all good, i’m gettin’ paid for my shows
makin’ waves on the low, that’s just the way that i flow
and i’ll never sell my soul for fifteen minutes of fame
‘cuz within a couple months, no one remembers your name
i roll deep, smoke weed
rock clean fits but i stay lowkey
show love to the youngins and the ogs
grind all night, boy i gets no sleep
yadadamean, i’m on top of the scene
while most of y’all only be rockin’ for cream
got a fat sack in the back pack, when i rap fast
never gunnin’ for the cheese like a lab rat

[verse 2: roc]
it’s hard to walk with a frown when you the talk of the town
compet-tion, i be choppin’ it down
stop the dissin’ or i’m poppin’ a round
opposition better drop at the sound
of a pen drop, man i been hot, kick rocks, y’all gon’ see me win g
‘cuz i stay all about my business like epmd
posted up with a double cup of fanta, and a stogie rolled with bubba kush
already at my wits end, so homie you don’t wanna push
the purple punch done got me stuck, so i should probably hold back
but them edibles taste so good, i done messed around and ate the whole bag
now i can feel my soul drag, but rest -ssured i will persist
most of you chumps ain’t built for this
i’m a king with the pen, no wilson fisk
pourin’ gatorade on a hater’s grave
strapped with a box full of razor blades
rock a crowd and they stay amazed
then i hit the dab rig and get blazed for days
suburban white kids tell me i’m the new eminem
my old pastors probably think that i’m fumin’ with sin
but i’m just speakin’ facts, can’t compete with that
egghead rappers, i leave ‘em cracked
cuz y’all stay lookin’ like fresh meat, and now it’s time to feed the pack
i’m…

- rocky roc vandergriff lyrics

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