76 Lyrics
| Song | 76 |
| Artist | Roc Marciano |
| Album | Reloaded (Deluxe Edition) |
| Download | Image LRC TXT |
| Quadraports, slide off through a time warp | |
| Been getting money before dinosaur | |
| Dimes is on | |
| Llamas is long | |
| Write rhymes on island resorts | |
| Dimes who snort | |
| Some guys who slide a line inside a | |
| Newport Push a fly two door like | |
| Too $hort | |
| I’m just a artist with a tech | |
| Hard as a beget | |
| Carve a nigga head | |
| You a meatball, get squeezed on | |
| Your physical being turn to cream corn | |
| Slice a quarter for the order, | |
| Supporter, roll dice on the corner | |
| Gats tucked, big cash can touch em at the cusp | |
| Couple of hundred racks on the rug | |
| Young don, son’s under the arm | |
| He treat Lamborghinis like bumper cars | |
| Got scars | |
| Chains around the necks like scarves | |
| Your limbs hang out of threads like yarn | |
| I’m the next big thing | |
| Chickenheads cling the bed spring king | |
| Run the ring, my head is on | |
| The top of the pyramids | |
| Pictures of me and all of my affiliates | |
| We lit phillies like idiots, kill a lineage | |
| Let them know what it really is | |
| Niggas is penniless with skinny ribs | |
| I fire semis in too many wigs | |
| I’m feeling like | |
| Billy the | |
| Kidd, skinny big | |
| You literally live as a guinea pig | |
| If the timbs ain’t on deck | |
| You know the pennies is | |
| Your fingers still penny pinch | |
| You make me pull a mack milli | |
| Out the Fendi trench | |
| At any event, hold the twelve gauge that’s heavy as shit | |
| For every clip we let steadily rip, push your afro back to | |
| Seventy Six, motherfucker | |
| Niggas is petty, legendary | |
| All of my enemies are dead and buried | |
| I let twenty hit your strawberry | |
| Pelle Burn holes in your belly like | |
| Henny Betty, turn up dead like | |
| Freddy For owing niggas fetti | |
| Get cut with the machete | |
| Lift you up quick with the desy | |
| Smuggle drugs stuffed in the teddy | |
| Your bitch get fucked, missionary | |
| Visionary, | |
| I bust shots out | |
| The tinted end daddy | |
| Ghetto poet | |
| Four up in the rodent look bloated | |
| You shouldnt’ve gloated, | |
| I unloaded | |
| I was molded to stand up | |
| When other niggas folded | |
| The spirit out your body just floated | |
| Word to my son, | |
| I’ll murder a bum | |
| Turn your thumb, until it swell up like plum | |
| Your future look glum | |
| I heard I feel numb, | |
| I’m numb when guns bang on you like steel drums, spill blood | |
| Plus sweat before | |
| I lift the iron up, stretch | |
| Clutch the tec, bust til your wet heads rubberneck | |
| Like, “Damn, what a fucking mess.” | |
| Who want come test or unimpressed | |
| Make you undress | |
| To eat food like | |
| I’m underfed | |
| Dump with the | |
| Feds, like | |
| I’m on the dead | |
| With one in the head | |
| Don’t let it be left unsaid |
| Quadraports, slide off through a time warp | |
| Been getting money before dinosaur | |
| Dimes is on | |
| Llamas is long | |
| Write rhymes on island resorts | |
| Dimes who snort | |
| Some guys who slide a line inside a | |
| Newport Push a fly two door like | |
| Too hort | |
| I' m just a artist with a tech | |
| Hard as a beget | |
| Carve a nigga head | |
| You a meatball, get squeezed on | |
| Your physical being turn to cream corn | |
| Slice a quarter for the order, | |
| Supporter, roll dice on the corner | |
| Gats tucked, big cash can touch em at the cusp | |
| Couple of hundred racks on the rug | |
| Young don, son' s under the arm | |
| He treat Lamborghinis like bumper cars | |
| Got scars | |
| Chains around the necks like scarves | |
| Your limbs hang out of threads like yarn | |
| I' m the next big thing | |
| Chickenheads cling the bed spring king | |
| Run the ring, my head is on | |
| The top of the pyramids | |
| Pictures of me and all of my affiliates | |
| We lit phillies like idiots, kill a lineage | |
| Let them know what it really is | |
| Niggas is penniless with skinny ribs | |
| I fire semis in too many wigs | |
| I' m feeling like | |
| Billy the | |
| Kidd, skinny big | |
| You literally live as a guinea pig | |
| If the timbs ain' t on deck | |
| You know the pennies is | |
| Your fingers still penny pinch | |
| You make me pull a mack milli | |
| Out the Fendi trench | |
| At any event, hold the twelve gauge that' s heavy as shit | |
| For every clip we let steadily rip, push your afro back to | |
| Seventy Six, motherfucker | |
| Niggas is petty, legendary | |
| All of my enemies are dead and buried | |
| I let twenty hit your strawberry | |
| Pelle Burn holes in your belly like | |
| Henny Betty, turn up dead like | |
| Freddy For owing niggas fetti | |
| Get cut with the machete | |
| Lift you up quick with the desy | |
| Smuggle drugs stuffed in the teddy | |
| Your bitch get fucked, missionary | |
| Visionary, | |
| I bust shots out | |
| The tinted end daddy | |
| Ghetto poet | |
| Four up in the rodent look bloated | |
| You shouldnt' ve gloated, | |
| I unloaded | |
| I was molded to stand up | |
| When other niggas folded | |
| The spirit out your body just floated | |
| Word to my son, | |
| I' ll murder a bum | |
| Turn your thumb, until it swell up like plum | |
| Your future look glum | |
| I heard I feel numb, | |
| I' m numb when guns bang on you like steel drums, spill blood | |
| Plus sweat before | |
| I lift the iron up, stretch | |
| Clutch the tec, bust til your wet heads rubberneck | |
| Like, " Damn, what a fucking mess." | |
| Who want come test or unimpressed | |
| Make you undress | |
| To eat food like | |
| I' m underfed | |
| Dump with the | |
| Feds, like | |
| I' m on the dead | |
| With one in the head | |
| Don' t let it be left unsaid |
| Quadraports, slide off through a time warp | |
| Been getting money before dinosaur | |
| Dimes is on | |
| Llamas is long | |
| Write rhymes on island resorts | |
| Dimes who snort | |
| Some guys who slide a line inside a | |
| Newport Push a fly two door like | |
| Too hort | |
| I' m just a artist with a tech | |
| Hard as a beget | |
| Carve a nigga head | |
| You a meatball, get squeezed on | |
| Your physical being turn to cream corn | |
| Slice a quarter for the order, | |
| Supporter, roll dice on the corner | |
| Gats tucked, big cash can touch em at the cusp | |
| Couple of hundred racks on the rug | |
| Young don, son' s under the arm | |
| He treat Lamborghinis like bumper cars | |
| Got scars | |
| Chains around the necks like scarves | |
| Your limbs hang out of threads like yarn | |
| I' m the next big thing | |
| Chickenheads cling the bed spring king | |
| Run the ring, my head is on | |
| The top of the pyramids | |
| Pictures of me and all of my affiliates | |
| We lit phillies like idiots, kill a lineage | |
| Let them know what it really is | |
| Niggas is penniless with skinny ribs | |
| I fire semis in too many wigs | |
| I' m feeling like | |
| Billy the | |
| Kidd, skinny big | |
| You literally live as a guinea pig | |
| If the timbs ain' t on deck | |
| You know the pennies is | |
| Your fingers still penny pinch | |
| You make me pull a mack milli | |
| Out the Fendi trench | |
| At any event, hold the twelve gauge that' s heavy as shit | |
| For every clip we let steadily rip, push your afro back to | |
| Seventy Six, motherfucker | |
| Niggas is petty, legendary | |
| All of my enemies are dead and buried | |
| I let twenty hit your strawberry | |
| Pelle Burn holes in your belly like | |
| Henny Betty, turn up dead like | |
| Freddy For owing niggas fetti | |
| Get cut with the machete | |
| Lift you up quick with the desy | |
| Smuggle drugs stuffed in the teddy | |
| Your bitch get fucked, missionary | |
| Visionary, | |
| I bust shots out | |
| The tinted end daddy | |
| Ghetto poet | |
| Four up in the rodent look bloated | |
| You shouldnt' ve gloated, | |
| I unloaded | |
| I was molded to stand up | |
| When other niggas folded | |
| The spirit out your body just floated | |
| Word to my son, | |
| I' ll murder a bum | |
| Turn your thumb, until it swell up like plum | |
| Your future look glum | |
| I heard I feel numb, | |
| I' m numb when guns bang on you like steel drums, spill blood | |
| Plus sweat before | |
| I lift the iron up, stretch | |
| Clutch the tec, bust til your wet heads rubberneck | |
| Like, " Damn, what a fucking mess." | |
| Who want come test or unimpressed | |
| Make you undress | |
| To eat food like | |
| I' m underfed | |
| Dump with the | |
| Feds, like | |
| I' m on the dead | |
| With one in the head | |
| Don' t let it be left unsaid |
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