[Intro: Sample from 'Superfly' (1972)]
Don't feed the dice, roll 'em
What you gonna do? How long you gonna be?
Don't pull me out now, this nigga's got a fistful of money
And he's letting me double up when I want
That's what I come down here for
[Verse 1]
Yo
Where I'm from you can't trust nothing, nobody loyal
Smell the aroma, they smoking brown powder out the foil
They love the diesel and the dust like 'Midnight Oil'
Livin' fast 'til they in the cage or under the soil
Fuck it
Nothing free, better have a budget
Hard to keep the money, easy to touch it
I'm increasin' the numbers
When the drought hit, starve if you ain't 'bout shit
Niggas satisfied with a quarter and an outfit
Keep an ounce lit, pocket full of blue faces
Came up off a nickel, when you lose it's through aces
Everything you fools do basic, I exude greatness
Gucci to the shoelaces, roll the haze in the A6
Pullin' dames, got more game than PlayStations
Sellin' hits of acid have 'em trippin' like vacations
Wadin' Hell's Kitchen whippin' tryna shake Satan
Arms too short to rumble with God
Got knowledge like W. Fard
Build towers, get steel showers, I came to aim and dump on your squad
Leave you slumped in the trunk of your car
Pockets swell, buy and sell, my clientele takin' bumps in the park
You a mark, pull your car like gambit
Makin' dirty dough with niggas I ran with
Drugs, juxes, and scam shit
Rome Streetz spittin' potent vocals on your bandwidth
Raw like an Afghan Tanbur
For real
Don't feed the dice, roll 'em
What you gonna do? How long you gonna be?
Don't pull me out now, this nigga's got a fistful of money
And he's letting me double up when I want
That's what I come down here for
[Verse 1]
Yo
Where I'm from you can't trust nothing, nobody loyal
Smell the aroma, they smoking brown powder out the foil
They love the diesel and the dust like 'Midnight Oil'
Livin' fast 'til they in the cage or under the soil
Fuck it
Nothing free, better have a budget
Hard to keep the money, easy to touch it
I'm increasin' the numbers
When the drought hit, starve if you ain't 'bout shit
Niggas satisfied with a quarter and an outfit
Keep an ounce lit, pocket full of blue faces
Came up off a nickel, when you lose it's through aces
Everything you fools do basic, I exude greatness
Gucci to the shoelaces, roll the haze in the A6
Pullin' dames, got more game than PlayStations
Sellin' hits of acid have 'em trippin' like vacations
Wadin' Hell's Kitchen whippin' tryna shake Satan
Arms too short to rumble with God
Got knowledge like W. Fard
Build towers, get steel showers, I came to aim and dump on your squad
Leave you slumped in the trunk of your car
Pockets swell, buy and sell, my clientele takin' bumps in the park
You a mark, pull your car like gambit
Makin' dirty dough with niggas I ran with
Drugs, juxes, and scam shit
Rome Streetz spittin' potent vocals on your bandwidth
Raw like an Afghan Tanbur
For real
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