Accurate

[Intro: Curren$y]

Yeah (Chevys on switches)

Yeah (We smokin' weed in it, don't post me in your pictures)

(La-da-da, la-da-da, la-da-da, la-da-da)

[Verse 1: Curren$y]

All my cars low to the ground, millions of dollars without makin' a sound

On the couch, next to the pound, just rolled seventeen jernts out

Eastsider with homies from Hollygrove

I said, "Good lookin' out", had the convertible for a year now

I just took it out, seen what the fuss about

Then brung it right back to my house, I'm on the porch now

Neighbors walkin' up, talkin' 'bout sports now

I sent my Rolls Royce to the courthouse

They tried to throw the book at the doggy, he shook it off him

Take him and the family shoppin', poolside, talkin' to my delivery guy

Just picked up a ride, estimated arrival time

Sometime late tomorrow night, gravy over rice

Baked chicken, leave the skin on

Lemonade with some ice, TV got my favorite shit on

This is the life, as I know it

Long as I don't blow it, sole controller with the frozen Rollie

[Verse 2: Rome Streetz]

Ayo, ayo, ayo

My style is gunpowder and poison in a glass vial

Pain and passion from the pen and paper of this black child

Yeah I came up from incarcerated to cash cow

Had a krill clientele before I put a rap out

Knew that I'd be a king in this shit, I never had doubts

You learn less tryna skip steps, takin' the fast route

You hypnotized by hoes on Instagram with they ass out

You lost the lust and got found stuck, she laid your ass down

Niggas claimin' that they the ruler, we aim and blast crowns

Off they dome piece for fuckin' with Spitta and Rome Streetz

My bankroll gettin' bigger, future seven-figure nigga

Ridin', bumpin' some Jigga, got a zip in my Snow Beach

On my shit, reach my goals, all of my foes below me

When the crook was in bookings, never ate the bologna

It's Wagyu steaks, asparagus and a bag of piff

Lavish shit, gold Gucci links with the Lazarus

It's a marathon, you think you neck-and-neck? I lapped your shit

Made it out the mud to luxury, look how I mastered it

Accurate; it's only a few niggas that can actually spit

All these other dudes is mess hall food, I'm trashin' it

Cruise in faster whips with the stash equipped, fly fashion drip

Your song ever come on, we're skippin' past your shit

[Outro: Rome Streetz]

Fuck outta here