Music Video

True Love
Watch {trackName} music video by {artistName}

Featured In

Credits

PERFORMING ARTISTS
Roc Marciano
Roc Marciano
Vocals
COMPOSITION & LYRICS
Rakeem Calief Myer
Rakeem Calief Myer
Songwriter
PRODUCTION & ENGINEERING
Roc Marciano
Roc Marciano
Producer
Eddie Sancho
Eddie Sancho
Producer

Lyrics

(Oh-oh, yeah, oh, yeah, oh, yeah) (Oh-oh, yeah, oh, yeah, oh, yeah) (Oh-oh, yeah, oh, yeah, oh, yeah) Woo, hunnid block, Marc', woo Yo, it's the Ferrari whipper, Bacardi sipper (oh, yeah, oh, yeah) The Carti's with the Marni slippers (oh, yeah, oh, yeah) How I slid out the party with gaudy bitches (oh-oh, yeah, oh, yeah, oh, yeah) Hard to resist, my body different like the Karma Fiskers (oh-oh, yeah, oh) Y'all all washed, it's a laundry list of you sorry niggas (oh-oh, yeah, oh, yeah) Carbon copy niggas, pots get twisted (oh-oh, yeah, oh, yeah, oh, yeah) Like you're locked in with Robin Givens (oh-oh, yeah, oh, yeah, oh, yeah) After all the diamonds and dinners (yeah, oh, yeah, oh, yeah) She claiming, "It's not giving" (it's not giving) Everything isn't ice 'cause it glitter, nigga (woo, woo) From hookers to juxters (oh-oh, yeah, oh, yeah, oh, yeah) Had the raw jumpin' like it was sugar fish (woo) My hood bitch will cook ya shit (oh-oh, yeah, oh) My good friend's in the bushes with the stick (yeah, oh, yeah, oh) With some bullets to send, shit will hit ya (yeah, oh, yeah, oh, yeah) By now you get the picture We up nigga, fuck 'em we ball (children of the ghetto, ghetto) To all my (children of the ghetto, ghetto) To all my (to the right, oh) To all my, yeah (right, oh) To all my (to the right, oh) Sleep with my rifle right next to my Bible (woo, huh, yeah) Ain't no love (hunnid block) Ain't no love unless it's Louie guns (stop the backbiting, stop the gun-) To ya bone in a box, so, what's up? (Fighting the light) Shine my lights (shine my lights) Bright like my ice, my jeweler nice (the daughters of the ghetto, ghetto) To all my (the sisters of the ghetto, ghetto) All my, to all my (to the right, oh, to the right, oh) Right (lit, baby) Huh, shot up the church, murder while you're mournin' (oh-oh, yeah, oh) This my third tour, but you ain't heard I'm performing (yeah, oh, yeah, oh) Lord, would you please have mercy on us (oh-oh, yeah, oh, yeah) For the turf we was warring? (Yeah, oh, yeah) My fatigues was dirty when I wore 'em (oh-oh, yeah, oh, yeah) Serve my hood, put up numbers scoring, we coming (oh, yeah, oh-oh, yeah) They running from us like deer from hunters in the forest, uh (yeah, oh) It saw its flaws (yeah, oh-oh) Phil Drummond won't let us come around his daughters (yeah, oh, yeah, oh) I'm a dog, I'm more like a young Calvin Broadus (oh-oh, yeah, oh, yeah, oh) She wag and broad, but y'all some walkers, we Aukers (oh-oh, yeah, oh) I was slingin' raw when New Yorkers was sportin' British walkers (oh-oh) Dippin' in Porsches when I jumped off the porch, I was piss-poor (oh-oh) Now the Patek Nautalis is the benchmark (oh, yeah, oh, yeah, oh, yeah) Send ya mom if I bench your aunt (oh, yeah) Every bitch is not meant to start (oh, yeah, oh, yeah, oh-oh) I'm only interested in a star (huh) It's by choice, I won't bend your arm (oh-oh, yeah) All you hear is the engine roar (vroom, vroom, vroom, vroom) (This for my-, I'm gone) To all my (children of the ghetto, ghetto) Yeah, huh, what? (Ghetto, ghetto, to the right, oh) Yeah (to the right, oh, right, oh) ('Member your true love, true love) My motherfuckin' life right here, nigga ('member your true love, true love) (Stop the backbiting) You on your own, nigga (stop the gunfighting) (Lighten your life) (Good lookin' folks in here) Old lady back there with the Jheri curls
Writer(s): C Meyer Rahkeim, Eddie Sancho Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
instagramSharePathic_arrow_out