Sprewell - Ro$eTTi: Song Lyrics, Music Videos & Concerts

Sprewell

1

Hip-Hop/Rap

Sprewell was released on May 24, 2019 by Ro$$etti as a part of the album Waves

Song Details

AlbumWaves

Release DateMay 24, 2019

LabelRo$$etti

LanguageEnglish

Melodicness

Acousticness

Valence

Danceability

Energy

BPM89

OVERVIEW

LYRICS

Credits

PERFORMING ARTISTS

Ro$$eTTi

Performer

COMPOSITION & LYRICS

Dimitri Salvatore Ross

Dimitri Salvatore Ross

Songwriter

Jvon Jackson-Maye

Jvon Jackson-Maye

Songwriter

Lyrics

(Verse 1)

Like TD Jakes with a greasy face and an Easter Plate

I'm hungry ****, If I ain't champ, I'm number one contender

Like the Royal Rumble winner, eliminating all of these imbeciles

Any form of resistance then ****, shit'll get physical

I'm a wizard with it, I'm mystical

Better yet homie, here I go, bitch I'm Mystikal, the man right here

The way I walk should tell you I ain't playin' round here

Call my phone, ask me where your broad, she layin' right here

I'm sayin' my prayers, hope the Lord forgives me for my sins

Even though I'll probably do the shit again

Try to play me, I'll turn to Bugaloo in Above the Rim

On my toes like strength shoes, I'm jumpin' out the gym

Lil **** you a trip, heard my pop say that

When y'all around, all the thots say less

But when the kid come out, they're showing off like Beyonce chest

Cuz I'm a crazy mother fucker, young Delonte West

I'm on my cocky shit, people say I'm arrogant, deranged

All kinds of shit, just cuz we don't operate the same

Well I'm proud of it, spent the winter lighting up this flame

Carl Thomas shit, getting ready for my summer reign

**** this is pure dominance, my team is a monolith

Pussy **** talking, they be flapping their vagina lips

Simply put, I'm tired of it

Swear to god boy respect your jaw or you're ending up

Like Rudy Tomjanovich; and I'm Kermit Washington

Put your favorite rapper in my presence and I'm washin' him

Straight up molly woppin' him

**** out of pocket, I be watchin' em

Grip the Smith like Pocahontas thottin' in her mocasins

Wait, that was John Rolfe

Every track I get busy, word to Sean Paul

Man this sound like the word of God, bitch I'm John Wall

Maybe I am a little deranged

Fuck these **** waves dog I'd rather go against the grain

(Chorus)

I'm going hard, I feel like Hova in his prime

Been waiting all my life, I think it's almost time

Success and the money, they gon coincide

Can't be in my circle dog if you ain't down to ride

I done had hella slices of humble pie

But now I'm full, just know that I'm finna come for mine

If you're a casualty then fuck it ****, be well

Got the game in a chokehold, young Sprewell

(Verse 2)

The black F Scott Fitzgerald, this my side of paradise

On a roll, pair of dice, all you **** parasites

212 Fahrenheit, **** we ain't fair in height

Muggsy Bogues compared to Mike; All world, Jerry Rice

Jordan Knight, I'm the new kid on the block

Dirk Nowitzki back in 98, simply tryna find my way

VInnie Johnson microwave, boy I'm heating up

This is my house now, wack rappers your lease is up

Now put a coaster underneath that glass lil ****

Beef and broc timbs with the Tommy Hilfiger

Hundred proof rhymes probably make you feel bitter

But it really ain't no use in crying over spilled liquor

I know the saying is spilled milk, but this some grown man talk

Putting work in, no Jansport, that's kinda light

Oh well, clothesline a hater like I'm JBL

Blame it on the Petersburg in me, the city raised me well

I used to be a nice guy like Kevin Arnold

But these Winnie Coopers done turned me into a savage

So now I gotta have it all day and all night bruh

Until I found a Topanga I really wanna wife up

Tryna be something that you're not can really fuck your life up

Trap rapper or trap actor it's hard to decipher

If you really moved all that weight you'd probably be a lifer

So either you're sneaky as hell or you's a fucking liar, just sayin'

Idolizing drug lords ain't to bright ****

Think about it, most of them don't even like ****

I pledge allegiance to the grind, word to Mike Bigga

But every leader needs a squad, word to Mike Ditka

I'm Walter Payton in a pair of Asics

Smoking headband, my blunt gas, big stacks, I must stash

Legendary when I'm six feet deep

But I'm like white people's kool-aid, ain't shit sweet

(Chorus)

I'm going hard, I feel like Hova in his prime

Been waiting all my life, I think it's almost time

Success and the money, they gon coincide

Can't be in my circle dog if you ain't down to ride

I done had hella slices of humble pie

But now I'm full, just know that I'm finna come for mine

If you're a casualty then fuck it ****, be well

Got the game in a chokehold, young Sprewell

Written by: Dimitri Salvatore Ross, Jvon Jackson-Maye

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