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lirik lagu hot97 freestyle – rome streetz

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[verse]
check, ayo
look, ayo
soul controller
before the rap dough it was os or the dro and the yola, ducking the rollers
before the breakthrough it was the glow*up
your hoe know and wanna blow us, ’cause i flow so tough
i’m bruce uppercutting sho’nuff
i always knew that judas could shapeshift so i got no trust
your co’d got potential to be cobra
i live by a certain set of codes, mouth closed, you know the culture
digging my prada pocket, pull out product for a smoker
you brought me a sale, you get a piece just like a broker
you know the style, the kicks cost a thou’
my records sеll out, before it was gel caps and valvеs
clear baggies with grams, put grands to my hand
f’ing the world vigorous, been part of the plans
f uncle sam, got lit off a ppp scam
sold you a short zip, the sh*t was 23 grams
all my fans know ’bout getting they chicken up by any means
your fans is fiends, putting percs in they hennessy
got a tendency, but bend the corners and german vs
mom said the stove was hot, the burn i got was third degree
learned the lesson, dancing with the devil could reverse your blessing
then burst your wig, it only take a second
i seen many sides of life, the best and worst section
then i transcended to talking ‘ish on your record
reckless, icy rigler necklace
long time ago, i scratched b and the ‘ish off my checklist
i pulled up with a chip on my shoulder, clip in the holster
fast whip, it’s not a v6 in the motor
i’m the ‘ish, your chick sniffing the odour
getting dough off the raw dough i mix with the soda
i walked the, razor’s edge in fly sneakers, rhyme ether
roll high grade reefer, about the streets i could teach ya
made cheese when they put the dynamite to tina
cold as ice demeanor, got a whole pie, my starting slice was meagre
made away smooth, got my money up
bought a square, now its time to play like gamecube
you most prolly fail tryna make the same moves
aim’ll stain you, your brainwaves on my rain suit
ran the field then i got mad hits like babe ruth
took trips in some of the workers with my bae*boo
told her to stay loose, praise the black face jesus
been a made n*gga with money, the money made you
speak with criminal slang, my mouthpiece a chopper
could start a fire if i spit in vodka, it’s that real
before i flourished off of the rap sk!lls
it was packs, krills, all sorts of deals just to fill my fridge up with meals
i build and destroy too, violate and run through your coy weak boy crew
your soul in my sniper view
when i drop it, light the streets up like michael’s shoe
i been that n*gga, why would i ever envy the likes of you?
stupid
[outro: peter rosenberg & rome streetz]
whoooooooooo
godd*mn
it’s rome streetz, grrt grrt
yo if you’re gonna show up, be prepared, dammit!
griselda
rosenberg

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