Jimi’s Headband (feat. Daringer)

Rome Streetz

Compositor: Daringer

Ayo
Demon time, niggas get slapped with the hand of God (Fuck outta here)
To get a stack, we'll sell a smack and try to skim your card
Overcame the odds by the grace of Allah, now it's AMG on the car
Me and any comp' faux pas (Uh-huh)
With this art of Mozart
In Armani coat, blowin' smoke, evolved from tradin' dough for dope
Gordi' gold rope on the dope (Bling)
In my lifetime, need a whole lot of cash like skinny Hov on a boat (Money)
You niggas flat broke tryna stay afloat
The only thing you lames could ever get from me's a pen to take a note (You niggas bums)
Copeless murder, I wrote with the left hand, I'm dope like
Jimi Hendrix, six acid tabs and a headband
On top but I came from muddy waters like Redman (Uh-huh)
Where hustlers get shot or kidnapped by the Fed van
Better make your best move your next plan
Before I made it through they woulda had to was press hands and check scans (Word)
Now we in Japan gettin' bands, diamonds dance
Pro'lly be up in the can if I left it all up to chance
Eat off every seed that I plant, way too advanced
Really the God like Bagger Vance, left my footprints in the sand

I don't follow nobody, I go my own route (Uh-huh)
Hold my cell down, keep somethin' to knock a bone out (Bow, bow, bow)
Heard it was a play for the paper, I had to go scout
All star player in his own wit' the gold mouth (Uh-huh)
Nah I don't follow nobody, I go my own route (Nah)
Hold my cell down, keep somethin' to knock a bone out (Bow, bow, bow)
Heard it was a play for the paper, I had to go scout
All star player in his own wit' the gold mouth

Ugh
I score eighty, write a score like Scorsese (Uh-huh)
We puttin' numbers on the board, and way more wavy (Yeah)
Big middle finger on the Awake tee
You ringworm niggas ain't flea, they highly rate me (Hahaha)
A work of art, that's why all these marks try to trace me (Fuck 'em)
But they'll never see me like Banksy (Never)
Amazing artist but I started out a street fighter like Zangief (Ugh)
It was jail, drugs, gangs, grief
You know the program
Two-steppin' to the rhythm while the Devil try to slow dance
Married to the game, toxic romance
Niggas think they in my lane, they just roadkill, ain't got no chance (Haha)
Possess the power to hold Gs, guns, and more grams
Move units like a Rock'n'Roll band
Me and the Uzi hold hands, spray your whole clan
You understand?

Heh