The Rage of Roemello

The rage of Roemello

My name tryna echo

Staring so long I swear the page saying hello

I'm hearing these songs but tryna change up the metro

It feel like he'ron the way I'm straining wit the let

go

The rage of it all, I swear to God

Wrote it to make you call me dope man, dope man

Got y'all in tune but that tune got me moved so if I

choose to let this go and

Bid this shit adieu, and your listening improves

At least there's packages left if you living in that

mood

See we attract to the stretch, everything should flip

in twos

And if not, we should stop, like we did all we could do

So I'm on my gracefully bow, and on my way to that bow

I leave it up to you to perform my grace for me now

I mean, hands folded, maybe the plans folded

Wasn't supposed to love it, they say that you can't

show it

I mean, easier spoken of, see where this goes for us

Say its real or at least hope that the motive was

Never had a second thought, never asked, never once

Knee deep in it, f**k it, we ain't leaving it

Until it all goes and we go to get to reach for it

And shit is smoke and mirrors and we swinging tryna see

through it

Stick and move, I'm liable to switch & shoot

Like I ain't here to play with this fog, let's get this

through

And I ain't here to stay with these odds, so when in

tune

I'm either tryna even these odds or hit a new

As far as I can remember, we'd idolize thru the winter

And rather be in the 4 like when Stoudemire's at center

I mean, GS 400's is all we wanted

However we do it, long as we done it, the rage of

Roemello

Listening to Gloria's youngest, had us all in the

running

To wanna be what they told us we wasn't

Like all we need is to kno if we running, its not in

place

Cuz ambition is by the day, word to Wale

I mean, same scenery we was tryna believe to be

Had us counting wins before we had us an in

And sleeping is paper thin, no wonder why we don't do

it much

Sheets barely used, tell em all of this is new to us,

right?

And every dream that I dream is littered

With the fiends that I done seen while tryna leave

these visions

And so to clear it, I wrote to wanna be like him wit it

I hope he hear it, cuz word to Chi Ali we did it

I hope he hear it, word to this blue Yank'

100 grey bottoms, these shits never lose rank

And agreeing that heavy is the fade under it, but for

the love of it

They look to you to carry it and everything its bundled

with

Sunrise open your eyes, no surprise

Made it off of living for doe or die

Now you in the back of the coupe, glaring, half of the

stoop staring

To the point where you can give away packs like Snoop

Pearson

Think about it, yea, THAT kinda rich

Sing songs for black hoodies and black violins, I mean

The swan song for the evening

Forgive me in advance for your grievings, the rage of

Roemello

[Hook]