Respected lyrics

[Intro: Sample + Roc Marciano]
"I want to be highly respected, amongst everyone. Dudes from New York, dudes outside of New York—highly Respected. "
Check the motherf*ckin' record, n*gga, I invented swag, n*gg-a
Uh, uh-huh
They back (Uh), yeah, I promise you (Uh)
(Wooooooooh!) Yeah, uh
We ain't playin' with you (Marc', baby)
Lemme lock sh*t, boy
f*ck you mean, boy? (Yeah)
(We back)
Uh (Come on)

[Verse 1: Rock Marciano]
Uh—fox-fur on my evening coat
I gave these heathens hope (Gave em' hope)
Uh, peep my garage, three sixes, yeah, that's the demon code
Be it so, I'm not evil though (Haha) (Wooooh!), uh
n*gga's emo, (Ah!) this the cheat code, don't get your
Cheek blown—your body don't possess not one street bone (Not one!)
Bone to pick with who? You meat (Meat), T-bone
My dingoes eat you whole, you should find work at Home Depot (Mmmm! Get a job)
We own the streets don't mean to hurt your ego, sh*t is big
My nig', these cigs get lit with burned C-notes (Wow)
Peep the steelo (Peep)
Peep the scene mo'; moskinos, limosines, and speedboats (*Revs*)
Get your meatloaf smoked, your paper low
My section look like Kinkos, Pringles, keep the thing close
Like a Speedo, I'm not playing with these negros (Negros)
Keep it P, though—word to my heated comb, a gift from Ceelo (Pimpin')
Ya'll grew up in houses—we grew up in housin'
Now my outfit's worth a couple thousand bucks, so f*ck the browsin'
Money-counters on the counters, Thom Browne trousers to tuck
The Brownin' with diamonds, bust your Rollie down, it's crowded (Wooh!) (Wow)
Uh, do the math, duke; ain't nothing free (Nothin' free)
You can't f*ck with me, the Lamborghini truck got bucket seats (Uh!)
What's beef? When they up defeat and touch ya muscle-tee (Wooh!)
Uh, your cuddy just wasn't my cup of tea—Marc'
[Outro]
Uh (We ain't playin' with 'em)
We ain't playin' with 'em
(We ain't playin' with 'em) Definitely not
(Uh) Yeah, boy, straight like that—n*gga
(You cannot f*ck with me) Pimp stand in the motherf*ckin' buildin', boy, Long Island, stand the f*ck up
(On no f*ckin' level) You already know, n*gga, don't get your motherf*ckin' sh*t smoked
Don't get too close, or you might get shot, sh*t
Bum-ass n*ggas
You already know, n*gga
Numero uno, boy—jefe
Marcielago
Huh? Es cargo