Tekst piosenki ' Heart On Froze ' wykonawcy Rome Streetz

C-c-conductor

Ayo, you fuck niggas will never, ever get close to this (Never)
Rose out the coke, smoke to gold quote vocalist
Dior coat with the toast in it
Steppin' on your throat, niggas know I got the game in a cobra grip (Ha)
My name been critically acclaimed, this the culture shift
Back out, aim, smoke your shit (Bow!)
The Glock got a clip that extend and hang low from it
Got a flip-phone for the fiends, no associates (Nah)
Stacks in the Fendi shoebox I'm selling potent shit
Quick, how I went from broke to rich
Say you The greatest of all time shit that you do, typical
Slice the goat throat like the voodoo ritual (Whoa)
Sacrifice, you still be a bum in your afterlife
Fingertips numb from bagging up white, half the night
Lost your motherfuckin' mind if you think you rap alike (Fuck outta' here)
You broke and I get brolic checks like Off-White Nikes
The homie call me Bloody like a jailhouse knife fight (Whoa, oh)
Get you any work for the right price
Before my raps ever saw the light, swear my life was just like vice
Drugs lnc dealing with plugs, fiends with crumpled up dubs
Wax paper, scale mask and the gloves
Know to differentiate between the hate and the love
It's what it is, mother-fuck what it was (Fuck it)
I rose above all the crabs tryna' keep me down deeper in mud (Haha)
Gold slugs when I smile, keep weed in my lungs
As far as wins you niggas never seen one, nigga (Never, fuck outta' here nigga)

Mind on money, heart on froze (Bow, bow)
Gun barrel on fire, smoke out the nose (Doot)
Razor blade on the table I used to chop the O's
Keep my Gucci soles, in a rapper fuckin throat
Mind on money, heart on froze (Bow, bow)
Gun barrel on fire, smoke out the nose (Doot)
Razor blade on the table I used to chop the O's
Keep my Gucci soles, in a rapper fuckin throat

Ayo, check
Time is money if it ain't bouta' dollar then I ain't got a minute (Nah)
You slow niggas I'll teach you something like Bobby Hemmitt
Negotiate I only slide with a high percentage
You eighty-fives plagiarize but you guys finished (Yall niggas dead)
I'm going global, they love my shit like a Bon Jovi vocal, this dope on pro-tools
You niggas been lost ain't close to my old moves (Nah)
The goals been to monetize and grow to a mogul
Rise past the backstabbers, put tats on my old wounds
No snake eye hoes, her aura gotta' be oshun (Uh huh)
So smooth, for error it's no room
For real I was in between a deal, bag of pills and a dope spoon, nigga
(We have a problem, we have a problem, we have a problem)
Fuck outta here!