[Verse: Roc Marciano]

Ah, why i sell tags, nail bags

Leather in the jag, it's [?]

She like bad boy, jail [?]

My bed was looking like [?]

Matter of fact, you burning gas

You wanna ride in the fast track

Told her don't hit the glass, be a class act

Now your womb so polluted, couldn't bear children

Smoked out, you might need to get the air filtered

The death angel was near, niggas felt it

I sell fish, but i can't help I'm unselfish

Just copped the white Bentley, but it's blue inside

Lifes good, but the doors suicide

Marc nigga