Lyrics of ' Rotten.com (feat. Al.divino) ' by Rome Streetz

Check
Spray the blidick out the civic
Blow the brim clean off of ya fitted
Grab the mask and lift it so you know I did it
Been pissin' on competition my nigga it's nothing new
Buy a verse and I'll bring a complimentary hearse for you
Fiends thirst for potent work they cook it on a burnt up spoon
Arm full of track marks, the wounds where they insert my tunes
Tune into the frequency off E we eatin' frequently
Freaks ride the meat until they weak with no decency
We need to eat, find out where you holding them pies
We in ya spot, hoodie backwards with two holes for the eyes
That's regular shit we heavy equipped
I blam first blow you out your blouse and knock the percs out your man purse
Fatality, heavyweight rap lost no calories
Spinnin' the crack vial sell it for a thou' rapidly
From where it's foul the OG's crooked and the youth'll pull it
Before I serve it whip the work perfect with a Nutri-Bullet
Felony capers out for paper like black Caesar
Need land overseas on a beach for my leisure
Stylin' on niggas like the league leader
You outcha league I breathe ether
Bite my steez and catch a fuckin' seizure

Uh huh, yeauh, yo yo yo yo yo
Yo yo yo yo yo, yo yo
Pass off a pack in the lobby
Filthy rich bro I'm six feet in the swore, you Wallahi
Mahogany rim this vintage Carti's, tryna wake up in a Ferrari
Sawed off the nozzle up on the shotty so it can fit in my sleeve
Leave your people grievin' if you try to rob me
Promise you'll, pocket more than an audit though
Product move, obnoxious load
The dog food the color of Mackerel
Fuck I gotta prove pa?
My heart is too par, get throw out the moving car
Acting like a movie star, Super raw
Shoot your whip, Coup De Grace
Pop you off of a 'Zuki more fish than a sushi bar
Power plays for powdered yay
Pile this paper, nasal novelator
You know who we are son
Boot up and bake the pie son
Fetch homie you catch a hot one
X's on ya eyes like cars

Fatality!