| Uh, it’s Rome Streetz
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| Y’all motherfuckers lookin' bad out here, nigga
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| Fuckin' horrible
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| Ayo, next year you might see me at the Roc Nation brunch
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| Gucci down, work in my pocket in case I gotta make a punch (What you need?)
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| We with wild niggas that’ll spray you up like a barber after a cut (Bah, bah,
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| bah)
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| Wear a shit bag, you get clapped in your gut
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| As far as your rappin', it sucks, facts, my mackin' illustrious
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| Pretty sluts lust to get in touch with us
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| Been through hell and back, still I know God got me
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| I levelled up, now I’m fuckin' with Griselda like Charles Cosby (Haha)
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| Will I grow to be the greatest ever? |
| Probably
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| I got the MAK-90 from the FLYGOD, he told me spray your posse (Brr, brr, brr)
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| Do you dirty like a pissy lobby
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| Half gram go for thirty, I smell like urban Issey Miyake
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| You niggas watch nothing thought-provokin' (Nothing)
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| I went from cold jail cells to headliner when the show was closin' (I did)
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| My niggas keep the poles from Arizona to
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| Fuck hoes with no strings, bust on her nose ring
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| Everybody know that Rome king, you under the wing
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| Like the turbine, armed robbery was my third crime
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| It’s easier 'cause I didn’t have a pistol the first time
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| Nigga, fuck outta here
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| Ayo, pearls before swine, greatest of all time
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| Been smoked the teeth out, still smilin' like she fine
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| Used to look like Mona Lisa '06, you had Manolo sneakers
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| Hit the pipe one time, she sweatin' like she got a fever (Ah)
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| Used to be a diva, now you lookin' eager
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| told you 'bout the smoke with Tina, yo
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| Tina still owe me fifty, she used to come through
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| With half-off Fendi, new gloves, old glizzy (Boom boom boom boom boom boom boom)
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| You never put a hand on a bird (Ah)
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| When I say I’m the flyest, I’m a man of my word
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| Had coke in the tire, I was parked on the curb (Skrrt)
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| Walkin' over fiends, had the train on the third (Ah)
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| When bricks was thirty-five, mines was thirty-two firm
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| TEC-22, every shot gon' burn (Brr, brr, brr, brr)
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| And if you don’t know, now you know, pussy
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| Ayo, this Westside Pootie
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| And I gave y’all six years to get a bag
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| We just spent a hundred thousand yesterday
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| Y’all better off workin' for us
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| Free Sly out the you know
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| I’m in Hermès, kickin' it like Judo
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| This too easy, I might drop an album this winter
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| And if y’all still broke then, jump off a bridge
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| This Griselda |