[Intro: Rome Streetz]
Uh, it's Rome Streetz
Y'all motherfuckers lookin' bad out here, nigga
Fuckin' horrible, ayo

[Verse 1: Rome Streetz & Westside Gunn]
Next year you might see me at the Roc Nation brunch
Guccied down, work in my pocket in case I gotta make a punch (What you need?)
We with wild niggas that'll spray you up like a barber after a cut (Buck, buck, buck)
Wear a shit bag, you get clapped in your gut
As far as your rappin', it sucks, facts, my mackin' illustrious
Pretty sluts lust to get in touch with us
Been through hell and back, still I know God got me
I levelled up, now I'm fuckin' with Griselda like Charles Cosby (Haha)
Will I grow to be the greatest ever? Probably
I got the MAK-90 from the FLYGOD, he told me spray your posse (Brrt, brrt, brrt)
Do you dirty like a pissy lobby
Half gram go for thirty, I smell like urban Issey Miyake
You niggas washed, nothing thought-provokin' (Nothing)
I went from cold jail cells to headliner when the show was closin' (I did)
My niggas keep the poles from Arizona to Nostrand
Fuck hoes with no strings, bust on her nose ring
Everybody know that Rome king, you under the wing
Like the turbine, armed robbery was my third crime
It's easier 'cause I didn't have a pistol the first time
Nigga, fuck outta here (Ayo)
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