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letra de foot on ya neck 4ever - rome streetz

[verse: rome streetz]
uh
sometimes i ask myself do she love me?
she bag the work up when i ask her said “my lifestyle ugly”
i swear she been down since i used to shop at rugby
now the trench coat gosha and all these thotties touchy
fly n-gga keeping out this husky
you hustle nothing son you just a custy
sold a ton out the front seat
took a loss made triple that back in one week
rolling thunder in the blunt leaf
gold t–th, my speech never cheap hoe my talk is guap
games to be sold you n-ggas telling sh-t and lost the plot
hope and lox said “prayers over ball and pots”
whipping the b-tter knife f-ck it that’s all we got
the stash went from the tube sock to the shoebox
now its pay-pals from j-pan from my new drop
hoes think i’m famous lately i been running through tw-t
tell them get naked and toss it up like i’m tupac
it’s the kid that’s made food outcha idols
kings lose the crown on they head too it’s all a cycle
it’s ya last supper i bury you with ya’ bible
i see no motherf-ckin’ rival
[hook: rome streetz]
doing number these b-tches think i’m the sh-t now
ain’t trickin’ only thing she get is d-cked down
roll the weed up, count money and p-ss christal
need a rollie on the wrist now, for real
doing number these b-tches think i’m the sh-t now
ain’t trickin’ only thing she get is d-cked down
roll the weed up, count money and p-ss christal
need a rollie on the wrist now

[verse: rome streetz]
let me talk my sh-t like eddie in the red leather
she ask me when ima slow down i told a heffer never
im on they neck forever, better respect the pressure
been told you i’m the ruler and you’ll never measure
only thing i know is dope chase
best believe i f-ck a fan i’m like ghost face, k!lla cold case
f-ck a fingerprint i’m never leaving no trace
only signatures from signing titties at my show dates
riding through the city thinking ’bout how far i came
thinking i used to sell cocaine now fans in italy know my name
taking flights smoking trees on beaches
gold chains dropping six hundred for the sneakers
f-cking dimes with s-xy complexions and foreign features
sh-t i’m on is way out of you f-ck n-ggas reaches
you wasn’t on sh-t before rap it’s all fallacy
street economics on the corners i made a salary
gassed up i aim and knock the acid out your battery
give my runner piece of the package he bring a stack to me
[hook: rome streetz]
doing number these b-tches think i’m the sh-t now
ain’t trickin’ only thing she get is d-cked down
roll the weed up, count money and p-ss christal
need a rollie on the wrist now, for real
doing number these b-tches think i’m the sh-t now
ain’t trickin’ only thing she get is d-cked down
roll the weed up, count money and p-ss christal
need a rollie on the wrist now

- rome streetz

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