Serving Lyrics – Rome Streetz
Singer: Rome Streetz
Title: Serving
You know what the f#ck it is, n#gg#
Ayo, you bums might’ve never made your league [Nah
f#ck my P.O., f#ck the judge, f#ck the D.A., f#ck the agency [f#ck y’all
Started off with an eight and e’, small paper, now we racing AMG’s [Skrrt
All you n#gg#s washed up, to say the least
Plug mirrored work, I’d never wait a week [Nah
We ain’t work with scales? Been the way I eat
Scamming in the bank, fake state ID
Watch what you post on the internet, Jake follow with a fake IG
My n#gg#s real right, double R [Brrat
Nothing lucky, had to hustle hard [Nah
Cooking work up in the smoker jar
Nah, you could never ever f#ck with ours [Never
We push foreign cars through the fog, been a don, Louis on, that’s Virgil sh#t
Sold Acid, Weed, Molly, Percocet
Flygod told me murder this [Brra, Bah
Been merciless
Quarter brick cost 10 bands for a verse of this
Did the money dance, in the junkie’s hand, dropped 20 Xans, I been servin’ sh#t
m#th*rf#ck*r
The first time you try it, you don’t like it
It ain’t nothing to like, It’s something to be scared of
Junkie fell through, stolen car radio, flat screen and a twelve speed
Grew up servin’ pops, hover rocks to the crack fiends, I don’t sell weed [I don’t
Now we pullin’ up in V12 v’s with Louis chucks with the LV’s [Yeah
Finna floor the pedal, Ice water bezel, in the Urus truck with the F and E
Me and Flygod, big pole on me, that’s a tied rod
Chalk white coupe. 4G’s off set, but the dope whiter than an IPod
Union SB’s [It’s on me
Sky dweller’s face playing Peek-A-Boo
Undefeated on my left sleeve [Yeah
Water whippin’ like a jet-ski
Brand new soil and an XD [Uh huh
Cop a crash for an undomesticate, task force tryna run a crash course
Got the whole one, kinda zesty
Dropping glass, harder than some plexy
Still spinin’ with the lefty [Spin
Shooters on deck, shorty don’t threat
Slidin’ tinted up, n#gg#s ridin’ hotties while the strikers come with a red key [Brrr
Counting paper like a spreadsheet [Beep
Dodging raiders when the feds sweep [Aye
Plottin’ capers? Now he dead meat [Aye
Bone rushers speak for them parakeets [Them birds
Wrap his body up in the bed sheets
Still in the field like a pair of cleats
Stepped on the brick with two left feet
Quick to leave a n#gg# like a dead-beat
Where we at with it? [It’s the jack God]
You see the stuff, we’ll call you
It’ll let you walk away from it, but it’s always call you back
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Lyrics Rome Streetz – Serving
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