Rome.Gusto - Spooky (feat. Jay Litoo)

Yea it's getting spooky in here
It's getting spooky
It's getting spooky in here
It's getting spooky
It's getting spooky in here
It's getting spooky
It's getting spooky in here
It's getting spooky in here

It's getting spooky in here
It's getting spooky in here
It's getting spooky in here
It's getting spooky in here
It's getting spooky in here
It's getting spooky
It's getting spooky in here
It's getting spooky in here

Lito/Gusto on the beat
All these bitches on meat
To much bitches got treesh
But you know I gotta leave
Bro you know I'm going hard
Super hard superstar of the league
And you know I got a big gun
Peep the gray shorts for the tease

All these niggas sitting court side
They watch how I dump on the beat
Niggas thought it would never be me
But I'm counting my blessings
Lil nigga made it out the trenches
I see a bag and I get to the running

I came up from nothin
Them bitches were frontin
I pop out wit diamonds
They like how I'm stuntin

She wanna fuck wit the best
I came out the whip, yeah
She Know who the boss is
Young nigga flexin he flossin
Came out the mud gettin
Green like it's Boston
Niggas gon envy
So I'm Crackin the can over that Nigga head like he Austin
But young nigga flexin
He restless
He paid
He stackin his bread like it's Tetris

But tell me
Why these bitches like me
Prolly cuz my vision shiny
Dripper Game is Fucken grimy
Spitting bars just like a Tommy

Like a Tommy
With Blat and the boom
Bars alining, stars are shinning
Lito throw the fucken oop
We fucken shinning

Lito/Gusto with the gang
Got the gang going stupid
You could try to hide your face
But I could see them tities moving
And I can beat that ass shaking
Cuz I got that bread that bacon
Bitch ain't want me
I Was basic
I was stuck inside the basement

Ayee what
It's getting spooky in here
It's getting spooky
It's getting spooky in here
It's getting spooky in here
It's getting spooky
It's getting spooky in here
It's getting spooky in here

But fuck wat they gotta say
Ima hop on the track Ima do the race
I been hopped in my bag
That mean straight to the cash
I been cuddling racks
Yeah u know that's a fact
Flexing a Cuban
Baguettes on splash
Making a movie
They told me act bad
Poppin the dusse
Look treesh in the back
Grabbing her hair
While I'm up in her ass

Speed it up
Ass is fat so poke it up
Geeking up
Oh my gawd we geeking up
Got the bag n got the stuff
Sit back, relax and bun the runtz
Just like soccer we kick it up
Pack it up
And you know we smoke it up

Coke it up
Broke it up
She soak it up
Let me show you off
Take the L and get to thinking
Shake it off the bag is waiting
Fuck that bitch her back be aching
She keep running I gotta chase it
And you know I got the bag
And you know I'm boutta to stash it
And you know I got the pack
A nigga higher then Aladdin
Take the risk and get to dashing
And you know I'm fucken spazzing
And you know a nigga trappin
Got the bricks inside the attic

Yea, keep going, keep going, yea

Nigga it's lethal shit
Call me litoo bitch
Peep the wrist
You a lil trick
You could have the kids
Inside your mouth
I ain't playing no house
Tell that bitch go south

You a lil bitch and I'm hella big
Pockets hella thick
And I got the gift
Dam I'm hella sick
Dam I'm hella sick

Written by:
Carl Hudson, Romario Auguste

Publisher:
Lyrics © O/B/O DistroKid

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