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Top Songs By Rome Streetz
Credits
PERFORMING ARTISTS
Rome Streetz
Vocals
PRODUCTION & ENGINEERING
Camoflauge Monk
Producer
Elijah Hooks
Mixing Engineer
Lyrics
Look (Niggas know who the fuck it is)
Niggas can't fuck with me, look, ayo
I'm a rapper now, I had the work in the pot sizzling
Bitch down to ride by my side like Elizabeth
Can't trust these reptiles, niggas on lizard shit
Have a out before you get popped or be a prisoner
Money by any means always been what the mission was
Sin just to come up on the win, I been sinister
Bring a listener into my world, lift weight
But it wasn't a curl, fiends treat the work in my palm like a pearl
Won't serve anybody, you need a referral
When I'm on the beat, it's a homi', I'm keeping your girl
On my dick 'cause she been there, made a shift, now we in gear
Gold smiling, Stone Island my swimwear, you niggas never been there
Far away, all my bars is yay
The one like Penny Hardaway, chasing larger pay
At the table bagging up bombs, playing some Marvin Gaye
He asked me "What's going on?", I said "I'm living the wrong way" (Damn)
Thought to myself, "Shit gotta change"
Can't keep up with the God, 'cause you ain't got the range (Nah)
Times was hard, now when we cry, it's champagne
Can't fuck with my campaign (Never)
Thought to myself, "Shit gotta change"
Can't keep up with the God, 'cause you ain't got the range (Fuck outta here)
Times was hard, now when we cry, it's champagne
Can't fuck with my campaign (Never in your life, nigga), ayo, ayo
Too many niggas sounding the same, doing the same shit
Acting like they doing something different with the same script
They in the way, clogging the lane, they lack the range
When you level up, some close ones change, sad exchange
They don't overstand when your aim's an eight figure bank
Spending euros and francs, made it off the shit that I think
Came up from an empty cup with nothing to drink
Bitcoins bought half a brick, now I'm icy like a hockey rink
Stupid niggas crash out like it cost a lot to think
The jail and the morgue's full of those, bread or bullet holes
What you looking for? Plenty to explore
I'm out for greatness in my statements, fuck you, pay me like a hooker bored
A lot of these niggas wasn't rhyming right, so I took New York
Now smoke this work that I cooked with a fork
When son writing, it's a young Tyson hooking your jaw
You niggas been lost a long time ago, look at the score
I lapped you all, now I'm out in London spending at the mall
Bad groupie broads can't detach from my balls
Made a transition from selling pill packs in the hall
Where life ain't fair, niggas brought gats to the brawl
Now I need Basquiats and Warhols on the walls
So wealthy, if I ever dropped, the money soften the fall
I'm after that, I ain't chasing fame
So any time you ever see my eyes cry tears, bet it's Ace of Spades
Thought to myself, "Shit gotta change"
Can't keep up with the God, 'cause you ain't got the range (Nah)
Times was hard, now when we cry, it's champagne
Can't fuck with my campaign (Never)
Thought to myself, "Shit gotta change"
Can't keep up with the God, 'cause you ain't got the range (Fuck outta here)
Times was hard, now when we cry, it's champagne
Can't fuck with my campaign (Never in your life, nigga)
Writer(s): Jerome Anthony Allen, Corey Jaleel Stanfield
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