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letra de pocket full of beans (remix) - rome streetz

[intro: rome streetz]
yeah
never in your f-ckin’ life
look
ayy, yo

[verse 1: rome streetz]
in the bank, makin’ deposits (uh-huh)
i was just sellin’ crank in the projects (i was)
now i get franks rippin’ a concert (uh-huh)
broke, ’cause you n-ggas ain’t poppin’ (hahaha!)
a n-gga took a risk and i prospered
got plenty in the pot, many options, bigger horizons (yeah)
my n-gga, i’m risin’, big benz what i arrived in
bad b-tch drivin’, fly king (uh-huh)
pay homage, sellin’ beige product
got to chase profit, tailor-made garments (yeah)
every b-tch that i lay a goddess (yeah)
i been ’bout it, ’bout it, ain’t no way around it (nah)
every day i’m countin’ plenty pay
was drownin’ in the street, mommy pray i make it out it
started with a stone, then i made a mountain (i did)
on my own, plenty haters doubt it
got thе pay and power, ain’t respectin’ cowards (nah)
know thе world is ours, that’s obvious (yeah)
without this rap sh-t, i’d be lit (uh-huh)
plenty dirty cash you’ll see papi with (work)
all you n-ggas squares like a floppy disk (haha)
unoriginal carbon copy sh-t
but you bum ass n-ggas could not be this (you n-ggas washed!)
i had to rise, my eyes seen lots of sh-t
[chorus: rome streetz, meechy darko, rome streetz & meechy darko]
millionaire dreams (yeah), money’s what i need (yeah)
phone full of fiends (yeah), pocket full of beans (yeah)
mind full of schemes (yeah), pistol in my jeans (bah! bah!)
christian dior clean (uh-huh)
bet on myself, it’s a sure thing (yeah)
win after win, i need more rings (yeah)
me and my n-ggas, we all kings (yeah)
pushin’ big body foreigns
millionaire dreams (yeah), money’s what i need (yeah)
phone full of fiends (yeah), pocket full of beans (yeah)
mind full of schemes (yeah), pistol in my jeans (bah! bah!)
christian dior clean (yeah)
bet on myself, it’s a sure thing (uh-huh)
win after win, i need more rings (yeah)
me and my n-ggas, we all kings (yeah)
pushin’ big body foreigns (woah)

[verse 2: meechy darko]
dig up yo’ grave, p-ss on your ashes
whole lot of passion but zero compassion
uppin’ in fashion, lowkey sociopathic
spin the block, this a “k!ll a cop and grip on your pistol” anthem
give ’em h-ll, give them sh-lls
give them more, and give them caskets
f-ckin’— -gunshot-
spit on my enemy’s grave, mhm
blood drippin’ on my blade, mhm
i guess yo’ momma didn’t pray for you
she f-ck me like that’s what she made to do
acid, acid, [and an air ?] for shroom
my automatic got a laser, too
aim and shoot, mercedes coupe
p-ssy drippin’ and it’s flavorful
pistol grippin’ and the aim is cool
cl!ck-cl!ck, bang-bang, and boom
it’s hard to get a bloodstain removed
[verse 3: zombie juice]
couple loccs with me, and i’m back in [?]
dirty with the beam, i ain’t hittin’ [?]
st-rdy on the beam, [?] in two
with the hood [?] like i’m supposed to do
pocket full of stones, big pimp juice
diamonds in my mouth, got a b-tch choose-y
might drape her down, she has a real booty
steady work the [blaze?], she gon’ stick to it
countin’ dirty money, got a fetish to it
all i know is pain, kinda used to it
n-ggas at the grammys, i’m in the crib trappin’
murder on my mind, i think i need relaxin’
look him in his eyes, i can tell he cappin’
see you in h-ll when my casket drop
k!ll ’em all, k!ll ’em all, and your mom and pops
like, how could i go broke but [hundreds of coke ?]
plus songs i wrote
what y’all n-ggas [hope?]
in the cut like i’m bl–dy, and you n-ggas [?]
rome streetz in this b-tch, thought y’all n-ggas knew
flatbush ave in the buildin’
probably knew you but we gods to this sh-t
got the work to prove, like

[chorus: zombie juice]
millionaire dreams, money’s what i need
phone full of fiends, pocket full of beans
mind full of schemes, pistol in my jeans
christian dior clean
bet on myself, that’s a sure thing
win after win, i need more rings
me and my n-ggas, we all kings
pushin’ big body foreigns

- rome streetz

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