lirik lagu rome streetz - sage or gunsmoke
[verse 1: rome streetz]
really ain’t no comp’ in this sh~t, these n~ggas miniature
miniscule, murder when the god pen the literature
now everything lit, the scripture bringin’ expenditure
f~ck a fraction of the fortune, i need the integer
ladies got no love for a loser, they let the winner f~ck
only money~makin’ maneuvers, i’m out to get a buck
words weighed in my shoulder like lex luger finisher
but i feel no pressure at all, look how i lift it up
no square bids for the cash, i had to tour for work
i heard your new sh~t trash, you’re getting worse and worse
the [?] witness me bad, satan in front of church
tie him up, throw his ass in the back of the he~rs~
knock your head off every time that i rap a verse
i leveled up, you wanna work, pay double
yeah my rap is like graffiti in a subway tunnel
ghetto art, [?] thugs, you know the drugs they juggle
from where haters were disguisin’, tryna front they love you
look you eye to eye, then they backstab when they hug you
that sh~t cutthroat, what can protect you, sage or gunsmoke?
torah or the tec, let it off if they offer disrespect
not much of a talker, i’m at your neck
what you expect from a fly new yorker, i’m ’bout a check, n~gga
[verse 2: ransom]
yeah, i’m gon’ die in these trenches
i’m from a different time, my auntie got high on these benches
she loved to sniff a line and then look to god for repentence
my bars in your mentions, i don’t need to go hard for attention
i’m scarred with the tension, my brain is a harvard invention
dissected and looked upon as a diamond in presence
the don with a vengeance, sent your soul to a dark dimension
sent right to the gates of h~ll, procrastinate and get robbed by the entrance
hand to hands go wrong in a dark alley, cold carry
palmin’ an arm longer than john salley’s
wrong addy, bullets ain’t got direction, you’re gone sadly
ridin’ shotgun, get you blown in your mom backseat
most of y’all wasn’t here for the crack era
crack mirrors tryna cover a blemish in mascara
that’s terror, tongue is a razerblade in a track severed
wack never, grim reaper in the street in a black leather
rap clever, took the time out for nothing, that’s webber
track weather, hurricanes, tornadoes and bad tremors
glass measures, pyrex cook with a dirty burner
thirty murders, death is never too late, i’m an early learner, n~gga
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