Lyrics Romans - CrimeApple, Big Ghost Ltd

Romans

You think you know me, you don’t wanna know
Crush a 50 piece then blow it up your mother’s nose
In God we trust, I felt flushed when the narcs rush
Veal for lunch, teal tux and the stardust
Seals clubbed for the jacket on my latest vixen
She gave me wisdom, sent the latest shipment
The shit came from a Malaysian prison, and made my right hand freeze
Liquid dope inside a Grand Maltese
I’m raising flags like Iwo Jima
I smoke the plant with white hairs like Dennis Farina
Ray Catena on the plate, my initials on the gate
Cilantro on the steak, icicles in the brace
Bitch how much will it take, this shit’s getting ridiculous
Watch Faces of Death, y’all shit simply Insidious
Place me at the bottom, guarantee I will prevail
Just like Tony Little coked out on a Gazelle
Forty-nine piranhas in the tank, octopi bubbling
Every day I’m hustling, every day you sucking dick
Inhale the gas, stay prepared for the drama
Bad guys with chinky eyes like Cary Tagawa
Wanna place me in a box like 8 slices, I raked Isis
Ate bison, skated, brought the retainer to Greg Fleischmann
He wished me happy birthday, gave me a golden crane
So I reload and aim, proceed injecting dope in veins
They overdosing on my verses waiting for a chorus
I am the E.G.G.M.A.N.
Bitch I am the walrus
Farrah Fawcett in the rental straight from Corpus Christi
You thought I’d let this shit breathe, please Lord forgive me
Illuminati got my mind, soul, and my body
To get biscotti, slung pinecones in the lobby
Painted my pictures on the canvas, flagrant glamorous
Rocking specs like Kurt Rambis in Los Angeles
Cubics the stain of amethyst, author of the manuscript
Whoever want it off wax can quickly get they candle lit
Fuck rap, I’m taking all advances to the pollo spot
You the type to call with 500 like «this all I got!
Help me out!»
I send with the plunger out
Tell him bring them crumbs and get some lunch, yeah take 100 out bitch
We on another route, offers I seen a dozen now
Yeah they signed son but, who wouldn’t he suck for clout?
Wash your fucking mouth, yeah I got the scope for you
Your dog came, enough fire for both of you
I mean really, what the fuck was you supposed to do
I’m eating off the parcel going postal in the vocal booth
I don’t sneak diss my boy, I’m pretty outspoken
Black & Mild smoking nouveau riche, crack child opus
Leave shit all in your chest like emotions
Unless I’m hit first, then I ain’t pleading for atonement
Just make sure I’m dead or you gone see the omen
Stick me with the spear in my rib like the Romans
What
Everybody with me fam, ain’t no fucking friends
I’m waiting for the bonus level, I’ma crush the pence
I’m just a crack baby out here tryna touch some yen
I need it all, playa--100s, 50s, 20s, 10s
Everybody with me fam, ain’t no fucking friends
I’m waiting for the bonus level, I’ma crush the pence
I’m just a crack baby out here tryna touch some yen
I need it all, playa--100s, 50s, 20s, 10s
Fuck you think we came for?
You can hold that Monopoly money.
Tryna get me a
little something, keep most of it.
Make me pay taxes?
Fuck all that.
I’m talking parsnips.
Watercress.
Quails and Cornish hens.
Fresh like I’m born
again.
Don’t talk to me.
Don’t talk to me unless you talking right.
We ain’t out here to be fucked up.
We ain’t luck up either.
God did this.
God did this.
Go find yourself.
What.
Go find yourself.
This is God’s work
homie.
Whah
«Beedy--who was like the illest--and two of his friends would go up against me,
and two people of my choice.
One of them was my boy Oscar, who got me into,
like, seriously writing, you know what I’m saying, in high school.
And another cat named James who was from like another town over.
And we just thought he was the illest, cuz he just was on some like Necro
shit…»