Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Romans , by - CrimeApple. Song from the album Aguardiente, in the genre Рэп и хип-хопRelease date: 05.03.2018
Age restrictions: 18+
Record label: Manteca
Song language: English
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…» |