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Artist: Roc Marciano f/ Black Thought
Album:  Behold a Dark Horse
Song:   Diamond Cutters
Typed by:

(You already know we on that muh'fuckin RumHaven, boy)
{Pimpstead in the motherfuckin building, boy}
Marc, baby, you already know what the fuck it is, nigga
We set the precedent out here (What up, bitch?)
You kid? You gotta be kiddin me, nigga
(Let's go, nigga) Knock it off, niggaz followin
Huh, follow me, though (See...)

[Roc Marciano]
Yo, rubber burners in them Germans, we some earners
Ernest, we don't give a fuck, we some virgins
Versace shirt, Medusa head with the serpents
Disturbing, the folks in the church was nervous
(Niggaz shook) Spikes on the Louboutins like a sea urchin
You don't see my me networking, he's not a people person
I was speakin on me, but in third person
If violence hurts how we eat then in defeats the purpose
Uh~! Hold cameras in the thirty clip
Pray your soul get to enter that pearly fence
Deals with the devil, Snoop with the Shirley Temps
+Murder Was The Case+ they gave a pimp
("Murder was the case that they gave me...")
Eventually niggaz learn in the long run
Your friends turn enemies, little things is important
Got popped, went to court once, since then been on the run
Niggaz thought I was finished, I'm just warming it up
Uh, once again it's on
Pistols get drawn with no pencil point
Chopped fish hitter, the oriental joint
Thought we was civil 'til we kicked you in your groin (oww!)
This shit is noise, I'm on steroids forever poised
(Forever poised) Floyd Mayweather with the cheddar, boy
This a different era, ain't no missing glass slippers
given to Cinderellas, bitches running my errands
Fuck what you yellin, niggaz jealous in they feelings
If we ain't gellin, accept it and don't be desperate (Bitch!)
Niggaz extra, fuck who next up
Rosebudd did its numbers, we doin chest bumps
Condo shopping in Cabo, the condom broke
That don't mean that's my child though
(These niggaz my sons...)
Condo shopping in Cabo, the condom broke
That don't mean that's my child though

[Black Thought]
Aiyyo, every sports coat got to be bespoke
Keep a non-believer chokin on Cohiba smoke
Keep a wide receiver open like convenience stores
Am I a Henry Ford or the Lord? I'm either or
These rappers is more weak, sweeter than Rita Ora
Ya whole fuck boy squad this shit ain't even for
It's for esteemed honorees, not the nominees
This shit is for the proper G's, not the minor leagues
Smellin like a pot of greens, this some kind of creed I believe
The jacket and slacks is By Walid
I achieved, greatness, switching between faces
If it ain't a Cartier "U" in the sleeve, it seems naked
Dream chasing delirium, the criterion is from Senegal
The homie Nigerian - LOOK
With the twelve gauge long beneath the black burka
The track murka give a fuck like a sex worker
It's a sad state of affairs, it's a tear jerker
The duffel bag circa '95 Ghurka
Slaughter without borders, war in close quarters
Joke is on whoever spoke, for 'em it's post-mortem
They prayed that the story they told could hold water
Better make it way shorter, disobey direct orders
We faceless and move throughout forgotten spaces
The rooftop's alleys vacant, lots and basements