Smoke DZA, Rome Streetz, Nym Lo, 183rd - Opp Pack lyrics

Rome Streetz

Rome Streetz [Jerome Allen] London, U.K./Queens, NY, US 🇬🇧 🇺🇸

[Smoke DZA, Rome Streetz, Nym Lo, 183rd - Opp Pack lyrics]

Yeah (183rd Street)
The almighty king Kush God
Yeah uh

New vibes, put the stove on
No other reason to prolong
Chunky link, both arms niggas' dough long
Reach like Boban
Jiggy nigga, bitches sold on
Me, 3rd, Nym link and form Voltron
Instant money makers like the lil'
Blocks we post on
Fire beats, we boast on, a decade in
Still going whole team tagging shit, savages
Me, I'm the catalyst, strategist
Break down the antagonist they dick eaters
Back then current and they succeeders
Inner city walls, ski masks, big sweepers
Street shit, dig deeper
Transactions, big reefer public locations
Hand motions for thе lip readers (Uh)


Load up the van
Put thе shooters in the six seaters
Coming full throttle
False prophets try to mislead us
Spin the block back
Spot 'em off with your top hat
Smokin' on the opp pack
They mad we shot back

Ayo
Been wildin', I ain't finished yet (Nah)
Got plenty pressure left
Still connected like the internet (Oh, yeah)
The plug revealed syringes for fiends to
Shoot up in they neck
Been a threat, my eyes closed
The shots still go in the net
The money sweet
Sometimes the game sour like vinaigrette
Was drunk baggin' up
Spilling powder on my vintage vest
Should've wore an apron
Learned a lot of hard lessons from
Young 'cause we was all impatient
Leveled up
Now I ride Jet Skis high in a foreign nation
(Haha)
With your broad, it's all fornication
You weird niggas' sneakers lean to the side
It ain't no correlation (You niggas lost)
Caught you slippin', got no coordination
Listen, we roll the opp pack up
Dump ashes on your picture
Been nice since Iverson was a 76er
For the money
I sold junkies plenty of mixtures (I did)
Got locked, had a bunkie
Letters from my sister
Now shit lit, they can't fuck with us, nigga
(Can't fuck with it) fuck out of here

Lo ex crack seller
In the wine cellar 'cause I rhyme better
Diamonds all in the face of my time teller
(Cash)
I get to the fetty, they wish they was I
(Ha ha haha) call the whip Nick Cannon
I got bands, drums, and sticks in the ride
(Vroom)
Pretty bitch thick, I'm grippin' her thighs
And ain't no returns if you
Switched up your side eat dick and die
Money long and my temper short
Put the whip in sport as I'm dippin' off
I'm tryna fly somewhere to
Show this linen off (Skrrt)
I been a boss
Reconfirm the addy 'fore I send it off
Tomahawk stuck between my teeth
Pass the dental floss (Pass that)
Ain't about no cash
Then I promise I don't get involved
(Uh, uh)
Whippin' soft, drugs on me, get 'em off
(Get 'em off)
Front the bodega, sunglasses Bottega
This year is no favors
Diamond Jesus Christian kicks, all flavors
(Facts) had a junkie for a neighbor
So the hustle saved us streets made us
Fuck school, we cut the books and made
'em ace of spade us
'Cause I'm way up and I'm burning paper
Never gave a statement, fuck a hater lo

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