The Appetite (feat. Roc Marciano, Quelle Chris & Danny Brown)

Once again
 Show it, show it, show it, show it
 You a weapon, I'm up in the bed blowin' head
 My shit a hundred percent
 I'm a boss, I'm not a underling
 Got a hundred links in the infantry (Let 'em in)
 My niggas gon' ride until the engines cease
 Victory is ceased, bitches striptease
 I might try a 50 on a pinky ring
 Pull up like, "Where the hoes?"
 Take out a-holes
 Don't you ever compare me to those sambos
 Cut the top off the rose, call it Amber Rose
 I got so many hoes I'm like the lead singer in Cameo
 But I don't taste like candy though
 Tanned peacoat tapped in, sold Miami coke
 Cherry nine elevens, got a lot of weapons
 My lady thighs make her look hind-legged
 Exotic pet, she like a wild leopard
 F it, I might let off a couple hollow heads for leverage
 This is effortless, you bein' extra
 Niggas say, "Wavy", that's an S curl
 Punt, make make your chest curl
 Finesse your girl, you leave a flesh world
 Sends you up, boy
 Ocean's Eleven type,
 If we see it, we want it, then we take it
 Blame the appetite for
 Sex, money, drugs, sex, money, drugs
 Ocean's Eleven type,
 If we see it, we want it, then we take it
 Blame the appetite for
 Sex, money, drugs, sex, money, drugs
 Sex, money, drugs, sex, money, drugs
 Sex, money, drugs, sex, money, drugs
 Uh, Mr. Bubble