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rome streetz - rich porter or pookie lyrics
_intro skit_
[verse: rome streetz]
ayo
f_ck a handout i get my own i don’t need ya ends
we was whippin’ work with the stove pilot on medium
weird n_ggas cappin’ about trappin’ we not believing them
i drop it a point if you comin’ to cop at least a ten
gotta couple poppin’ spots like cheetah print
me and my guys divide the pie even thirty three percent
mommy said please repent i’m sinning heavy
still touching bl__dy money ducking dirty d’s in the chevy
kept the pieces in the sleeve of my pelly
so i can serve you right quick with ease, just have all of my cheese ready
that’s how it operates, you ain’t fly you just d_ck ride other n_ggas cause you ain’t got no poppin’ traits
we out for the cake, pretty thots and lobster plates
fly rocks coppin’ potent products that they gotta taste
lock jaws to the zombies by my grand mamas place
ain’t got no time to waste
you dropped a tape don’t give that bullsh_t no time of day (facts!)
every time i rhyme it’s bombs away
can’t f_ck with nothing that the don display
on your best day, claim king n_gga checkmate
see through you fraudulent n_ggas like an x_ray
we blow trees and pop bottles on an opps death date
for the rest got something hot for your chest plate (bow bow)
motherf_ckers
[hook: rome streetz]
blowin’ trees, stone island patches on the sleeve
been active blow the ratchet for the cream
f_ck you mean? bout that action homie f_ck a dream
is you the dealer or the f_ckin’ fiend?
blowin’ trees, stone island patches on the sleeve
been active blow the ratchet for the cream
f_ck you mean? bout that action homie f_ck a dream
is you the dealer or the f_ckin’ fiend?
[verse: rome streetz]
pay the price f_ck your lowball cash offers
we don’t trust knock_off rockers and fast talkers
since a chirp i had orders for the bag snorters
now my thoughts is played all across foreign waters
anything i’m on slaughter, was selling molly to your daughter by the store before i saw a tour bus
ain’t sh_t changed but the size of the package and the n_gga that’s inside of the casket
with the top closed mad stiff thirty thousand hours got it more than mastered
so when i rap with whoever be sure to get they ass kicked
my rap style is foul forty_cals and acid tablets
tribulations and trials dirty dough in my baggage
chicks i made put the work by they p_ssy to stash it
speedin’ fast on the road to everything lavish
blowin’ smoke viewin’ snakes through these carti glasses
i chop they head they blood splat on my jacket fabric
i get mine cause my game intact
better be some of the illest sh_t you ever heard if my name attached
dope to fiends hear faithfully till they veins collapse
buy and sell it three times what i paid i’m making back
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