Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Snow Beach, artist - Rome Streetz. Date of issue: 09.12.2019
Age restrictions: 18+
Song language: English
Snow Beach |
| If you scared, play the sidewalk |
| Wise guy, get the cheddar, then I slide off |
| Hustler, get the pies off |
| Hit it with the remix, then I sell it for five more |
| Let it off like July 4th |
| No game, all facts |
| Show respect like DOOM, spell my name in all caps |
| Yankee ballcap |
| Swear to God, if I ever go broke, pull a toaster, get you all jacked, nigga |
| Get the money first, the hoes’ll follow |
| You ass-backwards chasin' whores if the pocket of your jeans hollow |
| How you profit sniffin' all the product up your nostril? |
| The blind leadin' the lost, he can’t guide you |
| This a page out the dope mover’s novel |
| Eatin' food at LAVO |
| My life illegal, mamba with diablo |
| Two-steppin' to my heartbeat |
| We takin' risks for chips, keep the chrome weapon under the car seat |
| Like Rodney, motherfuck the sarge tryna charge me |
| We move incogni' like the mob, fillin' cigars with parsley |
| My broad bad and bossy, highly intelligent |
| When your bitch a rider, better cherish it, your vibe irrelevant |
| Rebels showin' reverence to the rhetoric |
| Overcame a deficit, was medicine peddlin' |
| The reverend told me never let the devil in |
| We on the road to perdition and the new plug was heaven-sent |
| Learned from experience, I had no OGs |
| Gotta get a plate like Raekwon rockin' a Snow Beach |
| Watch your friends, every homie ain’t your homie |
| Just get your dough and keep it on the low-key, for real |
| Learned from experience, I had no OGs |
| Gotta get a plate like Raekwon rockin' a Snow Beach |
| Watch your friends, every homie ain’t your homie |
| Just get your dough and keep it on the low-key |
| Ayy, yo, no record contract |
| Just a bunch of customers and plugs in my contacts, tryna palm stacks |
| Survival’s only meant for the fittest when firearms clap |
| No air combat, your own man’ll sell your moms crack |
| For the love of evil roots |
| Might say fuck it if it’s feasible |
| We love fleeing, European vehicles |
| Eyes blinded by so many lies, can’t see the truth |
| Lost niggas can’t teach the youth, we tryna reach the roof |
| No ceilings |
| React off of logic, not feelings |
| You failed to profit, ain’t the topic of your dealings |
| Salute the villians hundred-dollar billin' |
| In the lobby of your building, fuck squales, free all those in prison |
| Stuck in the walls of the project halls where the coke smell still lingers |
| External blingers is all we can be |
| 'Cause on the inside, we’ve been givin' nothin' to shine on |
| And a gig is harder to get than coke, so niggas get they grind on |
| 'Cause the TV tells us, «Aim high, nigga, make all goals lateral» |
| But that takes paper that we don’t have, so niggas put they souls up as |
| collateral now |
| Some niggas reclaim 'em, some blame 'em, make an excuse to sell 'em |
| But when a nigga goes from not doin' to doin', what can you tell 'em? |
| Not to be a nigga? |
| Shit, I gots to be a nigga, that’s how I pay the bills |
| And I’ma do that whether I got to sling this coke or exploit these rhyme skills |
| See, America makes you an opportunist |
| And at the same time, they institutionalize you |
| So the fact that niggas get these big record deals, big money, and then go to |
| jail shouldn’t surprise you |
| That’s what lies do |