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"Roasted" lyrics by CURREN$Y
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[a.k.a. SPITTA ANDRETTI]


"Roasted"
[feat. Trademark Da Skydiver & Young Roddy]


[Trademark Da Skydiver:]
It's been a minute let me get with it as I roll up
Niggas been waiting on trade like what's the hold up
My only mission in life was to blow up they ask what I throw up
You know what I rep and I'm one of the best
Supervillian in the building I'm clearly a threat
Been doing this here for a minute considered a vet
A lot of niggas want me to fail cause they know that I'm next
That's damn near I'm possible this game ain't got rid of me yet
I fell of and I crawled and regaining my steps
This time around I'm ma give all till I'm gaspin for breath
I stay silent on a lot of shit quiet is kept
But I don't know too many niggas with silent success
So I write it all down to get it off my chest
The weed we break it all down to get off the stress
Niggas hate (fuck em) cause they know that we the best
It ain't my fault I do this shit breakin a sweat

[Chorus: x2]
I'm just laid back chillin posted
Living like a villian mostly
High off this purple shit
No lie I'm flyin I'm so roasted
Money bitches

Bring them thru my ups and downs life is like a roller coaster

[Curren$y:]
The more I smoke the smaller the doobie get
They takin shots at the jets on some john woo movie shit
All blanks I'm unscaved untouched on my way to the bank wtf
For tryna play spitta you shall forever remain with out a name
Lames know what I claim
Upset they all throw up my set from the sunroof of my car
Seats butter boogets
Bitches crumbling nuggets I'm feeling lovely and blessed
Tribeca and bubbies I'm enjoying a lemon press not that minute made crap
They squeeze these lemons they selves
The hearts of women melt
When trilla lyrics are felt
Olympic swimming in bitches Micheal slash leon phelps
High bread weed money tree slang for dummies
Get it crackin like lobsters ice vodka in the bouns bubblin

[Chorus x2]

[Young Roddy:]
Before the record deal yeah they said I couldn't get it
My homie farris told me you couldn't hustle for a livin but
That rich or poor the money had a nigga driven
In words of my nigga stan I was buggin for a minute but
Look how the tables turned they still spinnin
The homie flew me from canada n-y city yeah
My uncle told me let the sky be the limit
I was cool where the kid in the kitchen knew was a chemist yeah
In fourth grade momma told me make pennies
So it's money in my bank account and money in my denims yeah
In high school them girls used to blow me kisses
But it's money over bitches ridin ya'll about is bengees uh
Shout out to spitta they where south like fed d-r
Let's hit the chi where the weather much windy but
But me I'm from the dirty the dingy the south
Where everywhere we at we smoking out

[Chorus x2]

[Thanks to og, Jerel for correcting these lyrics]

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