[Intro: Rome Streetz]
Yeah
Never in your fuckin' 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***as ain't poppin' (Hahaha!)
A n***a took a risk and I prospered
Got plenty in the pot, many options, bigger horizons (Yeah)
My n***a, I'm risin', big Benz what I arrived in
Bad bitch drivin', fly king (Uh-huh)
Pay homage, sellin' beige product
Got to chase profit, tailor-made garments (Yeah)
Every bitch 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 shit, I'd be lit (Uh-huh)
Plenty dirty cash you'll see papi with (Work)
All you n***as squares like a floppy disk (Haha)
Unoriginal carbon copy shit
But you bum ass n***as could not be this (You n***as washed!)
I had to rise, my eyes seen lots of shit
[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***as, 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***as, we all kings (Yeah)
Pushin' big body foreigns (Woah)

[Verse 2: Meechy Darko]
Dig up yo' grave, piss on yo' ashes
Whole lot of passion but zero compassion
Uppin' in fashion, low-key sociopathic
Spin the block, this a "Kill a cop and grip on yo' pistol" anthem
Give 'em hell, give them shells
Give them more, and give them caskets
Fuckin'— *Gunshot*
Spit on my enemy's grave, mhm
Blood drippin' on my blade, mhm
I guess yo' momma didn't pray for you
She fuck me like that's what she made to do
Acid, acid, and an eighth of 'shroom
My automatic got a laser, too
Aim and shoot, Mercedes coupe
Pussy drippin' and it's flavorful
Pistol grippin' and the aim is cool
Click-click, bang-bang, and boom
It's hard to get a bloodstain removed
[Verse 3: Zombie Juice]
Couple loccs with me, and I'm packin' too
Dirty with the beam, I ain't hittin' who?
Sturdy on the bean, can he flip it too?
With the hood on like I'm 'posed to do
Pocket full of stones, big pimp Juice
Diamonds in my mouth, got a bitch choose-y
Might drape her down, she got a real booty
Steady work the blade, she gon' stick to it
Countin' dirty money, got a fetish to it
All I know is pain, kinda used to it
N***as 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 Hell when my casket drop
Kill 'em all, kill '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***as hope?
In the cut like I'm bloody, and you n***as poke
Rome Streetz in this bitch, thought y'all n***as knew
Flatbush Ave in the buildin', probably new to you
But we gods to this shit, 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***as, we all kings
Pushin' big body foreigns