Wisemind Feat. Rome Streetz
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Lyrics
My state of mind is a wise one
Rise up from the bullshit like my last gun
Show passion when I'm speaking the facts
Smell very good in the front but it reek in the back
I seek to relax
Eat all the scraps I need to attack
Please believe Sheezy is back
I'm with the trust unit
I'm from a town where they bust Uzis
Bounce the ATL to a crib that's roomy
Shell shocked when you slow things up
I don't really say much but I know things, bruh
I do songs with four singers
I'm fucking right now so my phone is on "No Ringer"
I know some niggas that never been to White Castle
I know some niggas that'll come to your crib and blast you
I know some niggas that'll go to church and smoke a blunt afterwards
I'm on my way, I'm about to match the herb
And y'all got some nerves, to not give me my props
My name not on no list, that's why my shit still hot
Still sounding like I'm up-and-coming
Still sounding like it's not redundant
Still feel like I could kill with just punches
I'm at the function just minding my business
Smoked the whole place out within five minutes
I know some chicks that got my back if I'm not watching it
I know some chicks that will walk in the salon and slap a wig
I'm like Ivo, what you know about practicing?
Either way I shoot my shot it's still accurate
Gained me some traction quick
Wanted a second to just laugh a bit
Ayo, I'm the god, they can't fuck with me hardly
I'm marquee, all their bars malarkey
I sold hard on a dark street with visions of living largely
Now what I do on these songs got hoes on me
I slide off their thongs and I fuck 'em to R&B
Don't argue with these hoes, all my words spoke calmly
Change the weather when it's cold, smoking weed in the palm tree
Used to hide the Beretta under clothes in the laundry
Got niggas that I know in prison fiending for the music
Or niggas that got rich off the ignorance of the foolish
As far as rap, most wack, some aight and a few lit
All the others unoriginal, copying Wu shit
Never speak on who I'm in cahoots with
Every time I do spit it's murder he wrote
Don't get smoked trying to be a hero
A jack for your G money acting like Nino
All Rome records run from Russia to Reno
You niggas weak, you need to recharge, your battery low
Can't fuck with me though, nigga