Royce Da 5'9"

Uhh.. boom...
Tick tick tick.. yeah.. 5'9 uhh
Yo..

I'm the verbal-spit Smith Wesson
I unload with sick spit the quick wick could split a split-second
Bomb with a lit wick expression
You here a tick tick then you testin..
My saliva and spit can split thread into fiber and bits
So trust me, I'm as live as it gets
Everybody claimin they the best and head the throne
Since B.I.G is gone, if you ask me, they +Dead Wrong+
My flow is hotter than the flash from the click
When the hammer slaps the bullet on the ass from the clip
You wind up in a room full of my dawgs
I'll have you feeling like a fire hydrant in a room full of dogs
So come, come now, get pissed on, shitted on
Tough talk turns to, 'Can't we all just get along'
You get blazed when the mic's off, shot when it's on
You probably ducked when they laid the gun shot in your song
My gun strrr-utters when it speaks to you
Utter shit to repeat to you
Nothing the clip, then give a speech to you
Me and Premier, we kind of the same in ways
We both speak with our hands in dangerous ways
Rap now is a circus of clowns
A whole lot of lip from cliques I'd probably rap circles around
I'm the next best to reach a peak formerly known
as the best keep secret, I guess that I just leaked it

(Boom!)
Somebody better duck or (RUN)
Somebody better
(Watch out cuz he's bout to blow up)
'Boom..boom, bam, God-damn!' '..Royce 5'9'

(Boom!)
Somebody better duck or (RUN)
Somebody better
(Watch out cuz he's bout to blow up)
'Boom..boom, bam, God-damn!' '..Royce 5'9'

I'm a motherfuckin star, I don't battle no mo'
I provide the the gun clappin around of applause after ya show
We can go toe to toe cuz they calling you hot
Steppin around all ya punches like, 'That's all you got?'
Everyday I'm meetin somebody and all of they peeps
Quick to shake a nigga's hand and show me all of they teeth
And these bitches I be pattin they asses
They be all dumb and googly-eyed lookin at me, battin they lashes
Rappers think Detroit niggaz not as down as them
Or since I'm down with Slim that I sound like him
Quick to judge me and tell me that my hook might sell
And say faggot shit to me like I look like L
My advice quit talking it's over
I was knockin niggaz out when you was knockin sticks offa they shoulders
I got dirt done in my past, I know y'all sweat
I got regrets older than some of you so called vets
Niggaz say I found God with the flow
Bring the police to the studio and bring the bomb squad to the show
Ain't a nigga touching mines
When you listen to my shit - you don't chew, you don't breathe,
you'll miss a fucking line
Every time I spit, I tick to show you it's hot
Leave me in the deck too long I blow up your box
Boom!

'God..God-damn!' '..Royce 5'9'

'Boom..boom, bam, God-damn!' '..Royce.. 5'9'
'Boom..boom, bam, God-damn!' '..Royce 5'9'
'Boom..boom, bam, G...God-damn!' '...Royce 5'9'

'Boom..boom, bam, God-damn!' '..Royce.. 5'9'
'Boom..boom, bam, God-damn!' '..Royce 5'9'
'Boom..boom, bam, G...God-damn!' '...Royce 5'9'

*ticking*

[Royce Da 5'9]
Uhh.. boom...
Tick tick tick.. yeah.. 5'9 uhh
Yo..

I'm the verbal-spit Smith Wesson
I unload with sick spit the quick wick could split a split-second
Bomb with a lit wick expression
You here a tick tick then you testin..
My saliva and spit can split thread into fiber and bits
So trust me, I'm as live as it gets
Everybody claimin they the best and head the throne
Since B.I.G is gone, if you ask me, they +Dead Wrong+
My flow is hotter than the flash from the click
When the hammer slaps the bullet on the ass from the clip
You wind up in a room full of my dawgs
I'll have you feeling like a fire hydrant in a room full of dogs
So come, come now, get pissed on, shitted on
Tough talk turns to, "Can't we all just get along"
You get blazed when the mic's off, shot when it's on
You probably ducked when they laid the gun shot in your song
My gun strrr-utters when it speaks to you
Utter shit to repeat to you
Nothing the clip, then give a speech to you
Me and Premier, we kind of the same in ways
We both speak with our hands in dangerous ways
Rap now is a circus of clowns
A whole lot of lip from cliques I'd probably rap circles around
I'm the next best to reach a peak formerly known
as the best keep secret, I guess that I just leaked it

[Hook - 2X]
(Boom!)
Somebody better duck or (RUN)
Somebody better (Watch out cuz he's bout to blow up)
"Boom..boom, bam, God-damn!" "..Royce 5'9"


I'm a motherfuckin star, I don't battle no mo'
I provide the the gun clappin around of applause after ya show
We can go toe to toe cuz they calling you hot
Steppin around all ya punches like, "That's all you got?"
Everyday I'm meetin somebody and all of they peeps
Quick to shake a nigga's hand and show me all of they teeth
And these bitches I be pattin they asses
They be all dumb and googly-eyed lookin at me, battin they lashes
Rappers think Detroit niggaz not as down as them
Or since I'm down with Slim that I sound like him
Quick to judge me and tell me that my hook might sell
And say faggot shit to me like I look like L
My advice quit talking it's over
I was knockin niggaz out when you was knockin sticks offa they shoulders
I got dirt done in my past, I know y'all sweat
I got regrets older than some of you so called vets
Niggaz say I found God with the flow
Bring the police to the studio and bring the bomb squad to the show
Ain't a nigga touching mines
When you listen to my shit - you don't chew, you don't breathe,
you'll miss a fucking line
Every time I spit, I tick to show you it's hot
Leave me in the deck too long I blow up your box
Boom! *explosion*

"God..God-damn!" "..Royce 5'9"

[Hook - 2x]

"Boom..boom, bam, God-damn!" "..Royce.. 5'9"
"Boom..boom, bam, God-damn!" "..Royce 5'9"
"Boom..boom, bam, G...God-damn!" "...Royce 5'9"

*ticking* .. *explosion* .. *more ticking*

Uhh.. boom...
Tick tick tick.. yeah.. 5'9 uhh
Yo..

I'm the verbal-spit Smith Wesson
I unload with sick spit the quick wick could split a split-second
Bomb with a lit wick expression
You here a tick tick then you testin..
My saliva and spit can split thread into fiber and bits
So trust me, I'm as live as it gets
Everybody claimin they the best and head the throne
Since B.I.G is gone, if you ask me, they +Dead Wrong+
My flow is hotter than the flash from the click
When the hammer slaps the bullet on the ass from the clip
You wind up in a room full of my dawgs
I'll have you feeling like a fire hydrant in a room full of dogs
So come, come now, get pissed on, shitted on
Tough talk turns to, 'Can't we all just get along'
You get blazed when the mic's off, shot when it's on
You probably ducked when they laid the gun shot in your song
My gun strrr-utters when it speaks to you
Utter shit to repeat to you
Nothing the clip, then give a speech to you
Me and Premier, we kind of the same in ways
We both speak with our hands in dangerous ways
Rap now is a circus of clowns
A whole lot of lip from cliques I'd probably rap circles around
I'm the next best to reach a peak formerly known
as the best keep secret, I guess that I just leaked it

(Boom!)
Somebody better duck or (RUN)
Somebody better
(Watch out cuz he's bout to blow up)
'Boom..boom, bam, God-damn!' '..Royce 5'9'

(Boom!)
Somebody better duck or (RUN)
Somebody better
(Watch out cuz he's bout to blow up)
'Boom..boom, bam, God-damn!' '..Royce 5'9'

I'm a motherfuckin star, I don't battle no mo'
I provide the the gun clappin around of applause after ya show
We can go toe to toe cuz they calling you hot
Steppin around all ya punches like, 'That's all you got?'
Everyday I'm meetin somebody and all of they peeps
Quick to shake a nigga's hand and show me all of they teeth
And these bitches I be pattin they asses
They be all dumb and googly-eyed lookin at me, battin they lashes
Rappers think Detroit niggaz not as down as them
Or since I'm down with Slim that I sound like him
Quick to judge me and tell me that my hook might sell
And say faggot shit to me like I look like L
My advice quit talking it's over
I was knockin niggaz out when you was knockin sticks offa they shoulders
I got dirt done in my past, I know y'all sweat
I got regrets older than some of you so called vets
Niggaz say I found God with the flow
Bring the police to the studio and bring the bomb squad to the show
Ain't a nigga touching mines
When you listen to my shit - you don't chew, you don't breathe,
you'll miss a fucking line
Every time I spit, I tick to show you it's hot
Leave me in the deck too long I blow up your box
Boom!

'God..God-damn!' '..Royce 5'9'

'Boom..boom, bam, God-damn!' '..Royce.. 5'9'
'Boom..boom, bam, God-damn!' '..Royce 5'9'
'Boom..boom, bam, G...God-damn!' '...Royce 5'9'

'Boom..boom, bam, God-damn!' '..Royce.. 5'9'
'Boom..boom, bam, God-damn!' '..Royce 5'9'
'Boom..boom, bam, G...God-damn!' '...Royce 5'9'

<i>[Intro: Royce]</i>
{"One-two-three-four-five-six-seven-eight"}
Y'all been frontin
Without a ounce of thuggin
You go against me, you too can count for nothin

<i>[Royce Da 5'9"]</i>
I'm the king of the backpackers
This T-bone contact to any wack rapper
It's biometric how I wet ya
My dialect's an entire weapon, it's set to just fire reckless
BLAP! Like {"one-two"} guns swoop
In the same booth the federales tryin to run through
Like, like {"three-four"} we raw
Me and Vishis tradin like a triple beam seesaw
I'm a veteran, the mac-11 the pump
You could name whoever you want
Wayne... Yay... Jay
Hahaha, I'm just playin wit 'em...
I keep the {"four-five"} on my hip
You take me serious then I might trip
About {"seven-eight"} niggaz and die
Feelin some type of way I figure it's pride
I'm the right-on truth
And that's right, I'm even plottin on my own crew
Joey... Crooked... Ortiz
Slaughterhouse!

<i>[Chorus: Royce Da 5'9"]</i>
{"One-two-three-four-five-six-seven-eight"}
Y'all been frontin (uh-huh)
Without a ounce of thuggin
You go against me, you too can count for nothin
Like {"One, two"} like {"three"} like
Ha ha, you {"two"} can - count for nothin

<i>[Royce Da 5'9"]</i>
(Woo!) I'm what choice is to option
Royce to hip-hop is what, Mike Buffer's voice to boxing
(Let's get ready to rumbllllle!) Yes, it's a couple dope dealers
somewhere that got rich livin the shit that I spit (me!)
I don't re-enact nigga, I illuminate
I know every point what I count like a Q&A
It ain't a arm when it's tucked in my box
Since it's Lindsay Lohan, niggaz call me Fire Crotch
I'm seein clear like a MyBot
I drop my coupe, black shoes, black Noob Saibot
I spit fire like Izod, why not
Cause sho' 'nuff I'm glowin like Thai mock
And y'all cryin like babies over the net
I should call you niggaz Lady Gaga
I call, "You and Em need to get together
Y'all need each other Nickel Shady blah blah!"
If I die I'ma leave heat
I'ma leave the sun behind, I'm tryin to repeat
Don't try to ban the drummer
He's an (Animal) and you can be a random number, uh (ohh!)

<i>[Chorus]</i>

<i>[Royce Da 5'9"]</i>
(Ahh) I put the gun to lames
Eeny-miny Motown, play the numbers game
Five shots on my block
is like for once I see like my pops is Cyclops
With both eyes I see you got no sides
Bring it to your Chippendale neck with the bowties
... All you stand
Grab a bitch ass like "Aye," call me OJ Da Juiceman
... I get away with murder
That Johnny Rocket in my pocket with my favorite burger
I'm tryin to shake it like a Polaroid
They said I couldn't do it twice, call me Soulja Boy
I said

<i>[Chorus]</i>

[Intro: Busta Rhymes]
Aiyyo Royce Da 5'9"
Why you wan' share your food with these niggaz?
We don't share food in the recession
Bite these niggaz like you bite the microphone

[Royce Da 5'9"]
Livin legend inside of a Smith & Wesson slidin out of the barrel
I'm fire, don't try me cause I am HOT!
Police cars with they sirens combined when I'm rhymin
Sayin they got a call that somebody 'round here done fired SHOTS!
Mac-11's in order, the flow is like water
Each quote's a quarter of blow, the chorus is followed by the DOT!
Goons, goblins and creatures and monsters are bouncin
And beat ya and stomp ya and eat ya, don't get swallowed by the BLOCK!
I pay a shrink every week to basically tell me
"Lay here and speak to me" just to say how psychotic I am NOT!
I'm too fly with the viral and physical copies, niggaz sloppy
Look up what you under, I'm what you tryin to TOP!
I'm scared and compared to no man, I'm like the big hand on Big Ben
I get in and I'm hittin my numbers 'round the CLOCK!
I'm 'bout to give it back to my nigga Busta Bust and have a seat
It's convenient I'm already coppin a SQUAT! {*echoes*}

[Interlude: Busta Rhymes]
Nowadays when niggaz walk around
They start to look like hamburgers and frankfurters
Aiyyo Royce Da 5'9"
Feed on these motherfuckers homie, c'mon!

[Royce Da 5'9"]
Take him, gut him and take out his organs and smorgasbord him
The more important he is I'm toe-taggin his BEAT!
Turn him to chicken chowder, dip him in some sniffin powder
Season him with gasoline and THROW his ass in the CREASE!
Mention my name in a record I'ma come get you lyrically
Individually I'ma take it back to the STREETS!
Cannibalistic mentality, rappers hatin, decapitate him
Rap 'bout what I naturally happen to BE!
Flow is superb and you heard us forget it, two verses
Two murders acquitted, personally it's a wrap, CAPICHE?
Fingers snappin and tappin they feet, clappin what happened the street
'Bout to happily bring it back to the D!
Niggaz claimin harder that all of this time
Niggaz believe him until I see him and then slap him and SEE!
I ain't havin it, havoc is average to me
War's normal, only thing I'm havin is havin a FEAST! {*echoes*}

[Interlude: Busta Rhymes]
Royce Da 5'9", you my dawg and I'm yo' dawg
Bein that I already sic'ed you on these motherfuckers
It's yo' turn to sic me on they ass
Let's go!

[Busta Rhymes]
Every time that I marry the rhyme and the beat
I go hairy and grind in the street then I'm fuckin up E'RYBODY
Mobilizin shit like we gorillas and peelin your skin
Like we banana peelers, it's hazardous if you copy
Don't you know that I'm one of the coldest courageous, the boldest contagious
Ain't no one can phase this thing that I do
Well you know since I report the latest that niggaz can't fuck with me
Cause I'm the greatest, my shit is sick like the FLU
You see I'm animalistic, the cataclysmic events
That'll happen whenever I grab the mic and talk
Indeed them bag us specifically that I'm hickory dickory dock
Of this rizzy, the diddy bop in my walk
Now I'm the messenger to set the temperature nigga
Whenever the heat will be needed to hot the block up, I'm sayin
I got the dillinger, Harry Kissinger with the ratchet
The fact is I'm back with the clack and the click, see I ain't playin!

[Outro: Busta Rhymes]
{*laughs*} Why oh why oh WHY!
Royce Da 5'9" please tell me why!
Why the fuck these niggaz gon' let us get together and do this shit to 'em
It's so fuckin unfair!
Shit is so unfair! {*chuckles*}

<i>[Intro: Royce]</i>
Yeah, what's up girl?
This my love song
Maybe you should or maybe you just shouldn't
Cause baby I wanna take you so far awayyyyyyy, ayy
I'm just playin, I don't really wanna take yo' ass nowhere
Let's do the real song, C'MON!

<i>[Chorus: Royce Da 5'9"]</i>
Maybe you should or maybe you just shouldn't
Cause baby this gun'll take you so far awayyyyyyy, ayy
(He'll walk right up and murder youuuu)
Maybe you should or maybe you shouldn't
Cause me and my goons'll take you so far awayyyyyyyyyy
Ayy

<i>[Royce Da 5'9"]</i>
It's definitely a burner
It's on cause that beef be the recipe to murder
Whoever's in my session's an accessory to murder
My words put niggaz to bed, my records be the Serta
Ay, the raw grind is comin up like wall climbers
Big shit poppin, them pricks is small timers
And y'all must've FORGOT
Like Juelz Santana perform at Hip Hop Honors with the Alzheimer's
I hear you woofin, c'mon, come to the dog diner
We all eat dogs, we roar, we bark buyers
You can't walk by us and talk fly or we'll hogtie ya
Nickel done fucked around and caught fire
I carry the torch and split a nigga up, up
Somebody gon' die, die like a scary divorce
Of course my goons is astoundin
Nigga I use the Auto-Tune because I'm clownin!

<i>[Chorus]</i>

<i>[Royce Da 5'9"]</i>
Nigga you don't want a problem
I'm photogenic, my image belong on a dollar
Authentic, my tennis shoes should have "I'm killin you" written on the side of
The willingness to go in, like whatever's inside of a diver
Get in his ass like a sodomizer
Fix him by any means like the plot of "MacGyver"
Nickel runnin for shit, you need to vote for him
They unloadin his flow off of the boat for him
Pardon me Miss Sniffle Nose, the coke charm
I spit shit crazy, with the toast arms
My kicks is crazy, like in "Zohan"
I'm the nucleus of this like a proton
Gat supplier - red nose
Carving yo' staff or shire, rap for hire
Niggaz is corny by nature - on top of that
Niggaz arms is shorter than my nigga Vinnie from Naughty By Nature

<i>[Chorus]</i>

[Intro - Royce Da 5'9" - talking]
Come on, come on, come on, come on, come on
Come on, come on, come on, come on, come on, come on
It ain't nothin like (like, like)
Come on, come on, come on, come on, come on, come on
Preme

[Chorus - Royce Da 5'9"]
It ain't nothin like love from the hood (hood)
Ain't no feelin like rollin through knowin you good (good)
'Cause you been keepin it real
When niggaz see you, they salute you (salute you)

Love from the hood
Ain't no feelin like rollin through knowin you good
'Cause you been keepin it true (true)
When niggaz see you, they salute you (salute you)

[Verse 1 - Royce Da 5'9"]
Royce Da 5'9" give ya ill verses
Ryan Montgomery is the real person
No makeup, that's why you couldn't touch me up
I remember bein locked up (locked up)
This nigga walked up, tryin to battle (okay)
I went ahead and let 'em finish then I told 'em "do that again I'm a
Fuck you up" (true story)
Now take a journey through a nigga's psyche
The only snitch in my life is the chick tryin to split up me and wifey
You think you like me, I'm aight with that
I don't even call my nigga Budden "Mouse", it sound too much like a rat
So may your steps be just like your stacks (stacks)
High, afraid of death, havin a life attack
It's I, got the soldiers for the coca price
Your poker face on, I'm a turn your channel to the "Poltergeist" (woo)
My out of town niggaz know the business
When you land, I'll come get you, we gon' get it

[Chorus - Bun B]
It ain't nothin like love from the hood
Ain't no feelin like rollin through and knowin you good
'Cause you been keepin it real
When niggaz see you, they salute you (salute you)

It ain't nothin like love from the hood
Ain't no feelin like rollin through and knowin you good
'Cause you been keepin it trill
When niggaz see you, they salute you (salute you)

[Verse 2 - Bun B]
It ain't nothin like walkin your block
One deep on your city streets nigga, no hawk or no glock
No blades in your mouth or box cutters in socks
'Cause real niggaz show love and bad bitches on your jock
Every corner got a homie you know well
Even if somebody see a deal, then they won't tell (shh)
Your man say he got the goods, so you tryin him out
The ice cream truck roll through, you buyin 'em out
The youngsters helpin out the old folks (hold up), with something hard to do
The kids is playin, nobody beefin and it's a barbeque
And every backyard with the old school jams on
Sweet potato pie courtesy of your grandma (already)
Everybody's home, nobody on the yard
We drinkin and smokin the night away with no regard
Nobody arguin and everything's good
Man it ain't nothin like love from the hood, that's understood

[Chorus - Joell Ortiz]
It ain't nothin like love from the hood
Ain't no feelin like comin through knowin you good
'Cause you be keepin it real
When they see you, they salute you (salute you, come on)

It ain't nothin like love from the hood
Ain't no feelin like comin through knowin you good
'Cause you be keepin it G
When they see you, they salute you (salute you, word)

[Verse 3 - Joell Ortiz]
It ain't nothin like, what I do every other night
Pick up the liquor, send the fiends to go get the cups and ice
Sit on that project bench and have some of the funnest nice (come on)
We spend that wrong doin makin money the summer right (yeah)
The smell of somebody barbeque got my stomach hype (mmm)
'Tata salad, rice and some chicken, a little something light (uh huh)
A beast with the cards, they always ask me to shuffle twice
Swear that I be cheatin, I'm just fuckin nice (haha)
Cut that, rug rat, niggaz that robbed, never tried your boy (never)
Only just me, no security that I employ (nope)
I never need to wear iron toy (why?)
I ain't naive, I just hang with some killers and I'm their pride and joy (yeah)
But nah, ain't about that right now (nah)
It's about the jokes, weed smoke and the cat fights, meow (what else?)
It's about them New Year's on the roof, with your gat like bloaw
Outside the booth I'm the truth, give me dap like "yowwa" (haha)

<i>[Royce Da 5'9"]</i>
I got a phone call
Six in the morning, anonymous, that said
"Yeah nigga, we got him" and then they hung up
Then I looked down at my iPhone
At the private number saying "Who the fuck is this" to the dial tone
I said fuck it, the next second my phone buzzes
My nigga's wife said niggas just ran up on cousin
What niggas? She said it was some rappers from Ohio
That been out here north of Atlanta bone thugging
Ran up on him and did what then?
She said they stomped him at the club then pandemonium erupted

<i>[Woman singing]</i>
Murder

<i>[Royce Da 5'9"]</i>
Going through my mind, is she telling me shots was fired
Them Ohio niggas is rock supplying
Heated, stop answering, start spending them niggas calls
Every time he went to see him he went in them rented cars
So it was even harder to find him so they figured
They'd go to the D tomorrow and surprise him
Did they kill him? "Nah, they only shot a couple times
Heard they was hitting walls." The nerve of these niggas' balls
Who was he with? "He was with Tre"
He in the hospital too? "Nah." Needless to say, call you back
I called up Tre, Tre answered, I said
Hey man, keep it real fam, why the fuck you still standing?
He said, "Nickel I'm a killer, not a fighter
So I got up out the way because my weight's a lot lighter
Them niggas was big so I slid but I promise on my kids
We can get them, I know where them niggas is"
Where them niggas at then? I heard what their crew do
Real niggas, if y'all was in my shoes what would you do?

<i>[Woman singing]</i>
You going murder

<i>[Royce Da 5'9"]</i>
Jumped up, pumped up, feeling like Manson Malvo Groucho
My bitch staring out me, I'm out though
I ain't visting cuz in the hospital
Till I got at least one of them nigga's chain in my hand like Alpo
Car headed to where Tre at
Eject the BI to put in T.I., skip to (ASAP)
He off of the freeway in the projects
I hit the exit without blinking to thinking in the process
Tre come running out with a fully on some hot shit
I'm like weapons ain't a thing, killing is the object
What was you doing when they was kicking all on my fam?
He said, "Nickel, we about to get them niggas, goddamn
Why you got to be so obnoxious?"
What? Just tell me where them niggas at before I take your ass hostage
He said "Alright. Around six around five
Of them niggas was riding around here in a maroon Crown Vic"
I said alright, pulled out of the lot and made right
You in the car that fit the description, say goodnight
You got to pay the price
Tre said, "There they go in the alley
Sitting in the car they probably blazing right
And they can't see us cause we behind them"
This ain't the time
"But what if this our only opportunity to find them"
I said you right, pulled into the alley and seen two people in front of them niggas' car taking out garbage
I said wait till these people finish, they innocent
Soon as they go back in their cribs we going to finish it
No sooner than a second after
Tre jumps out of the passenger side blasting
Past them niggas we here to kill, hitting them innocent bystanders
Tearing their trash up
Our enemies jumped out of their car waving badges
They all shooting at me, nobody blazing at him
This ain't adding up
Car in reverse, now I'm mashing, leaving Tre behind
Even though it's some questions that I got to ask him

<i>[Woman singing]</i>
Murder

<i>[Royce Da 5'9"]</i>
Burning rubber away from there in a bullet riddled car
Trying to piece this shit together, hitting the boulevard
If them niggas is the police, what the fuck is Tre?
He ain't dead or in jail by now then he the other way
Snitch or pig, I got to talk to my cousin
That nigga setting me up then I'm a lift his lid
That nigga know how hostile my reactions
I call and try to find out what hospital he at then
Every nigga pickup just laugh when I ask
Have you heard about cuz getting smashed maybe I'm the ass then
Head hurting like a motherfucker, looking for a gas station
Now a nigga need a fucking aspirin
I hear a familiar ringtone from my phone
It's my bitch texting me telling me don't come home
I'm thinking damn should I text back, why me
My phone starts ringing it's Tre on the ID
He said, "Them niggas tried to get me but I slid"
He want to tell me in person, meet me at my crib
I said nigga please
I threw the phone out the window rolled over it crushed it into a million pieces
I hit the blinker quick then hit the highway
If I'm a be a target y'all know I'm a do it my way
After I rolled for a few hours I'd say
I was tired after I got out of the tri state
Can't help but feel like another lame exposed
Pulling up to an old telly in the rain and cold

<i>[Intro: sample of Beastie Boys' "The New Style"]</i>
And on the cool check-in
Center stage on the mic
And we're puttin it on wax
It's the new style!

<i>[Royce Da 5'9"]</i>
New money, quite powerful mic module
Green ducats, black models, white bottles
Packed house, you lookin at the wrong nigga
Long digits, we can bet the farm who farm bigger
Once I go in my zone, I could leave my jewelry at home
I glow on my own, you can go in my phone
You gon' see some numbers of bitches that's so into me
A couple you might've fucked before, mentally
I don't snitch, furthermore I tour {?}
It's death before dishonor before misery
Let us know it - we don't make it rain no more
We pull out them dollars and let her throw it
We gettin new money, let us blow it

<i>[Chorus: Royce Da 5'9" (Iyana Dean)]</i>
{"New! New!"}
<i>[Royce]</i> I'm soundin like new money to me, {"New"} money to me
<i>[Royce]</i> {"New"} money to me, {"New"} money to me
<i>[Iyana]</i> You shinin like new money to me, {"New"} money to me
<i>[Iyana]</i> {"New"} money to me, {"New"} money to me
<i>[Royce]</i> Whoa!

<i>[Royce Da 5'9"]</i>
No iller, flow realer, go-rilla
I'm no killa, dope dealer, I'm so Dilla

<i>[Interlude: Iyana Dean]</i>
United we stand, divided we fall, let's pray
Any, legend, you know, we gon' miss you
Missing your life, turn up the lights
Lighters hiiiiiiiiiigh!

<i>[Royce - during Interlude]</i>
Lighters, cell phones, whatever you got
Put it up in the sky for the legendary J Dilla y'all
Lights high!

<i>[Royce Da 5'9"]</i>
Uhh, you hoes can bring it, old school chosen English
Frozen bling and throw-in singles
Y'all niggaz, pray that your babies come out havin good hair
I pray mines have all they toes and fingers
We are different, point blank, distant
It's just meant you rappin 'bout what I just spent
As far as hip-hop's concerned you all the same
A bunch of mohawks, skinny jeans and wallet chains
A bunch of dancin beefin street blogger lames
So don't get mad at the king if I should call your name
The new cartel - the doc pop the tag off my ass
when I was born, my momma pussy had the new car smell

<i>[Chorus]</i>

<i>[Royce Da 5'9"]</i>
With no booth, the flow through, I'm so truth
I'm sittin in pudding right now, I'm so +Proof+

<i>[Interlude]</i>

<i>[Royce - during Interlude]</i>
One more time, hands in the AIR!
For the legendary, Proof!
Detroit baby, lights high!

<i>[Royce Da 5'9"]</i>
Uhh, Lord willin, 2Pac with more feelin
Your boy's a giant, I step the floor ceilin's
More drinkin, more spillin, poor thinkin
You keep it one hundred, I keep it more Franklins
I keep it one thousand
I keep, buyin and buyin, while you lookin around until you done browsin
Ha, I put my money where my mouth is (yes!)
Gentlemen's bet, no gentleman 'bout this
Non-regional dialect and outfit
I'm on my West, Midwest, East, South shit
I'm all about chips, with my swallow mouth bitch
Signin out, P.S. (Slaughterhouse) BITCH!!

<i>[Chorus]</i>

{"New! New! New!"}

<i>[Interlude]</i>

<i>[Iyana]</i> Icewood

<i>[Chorus: Sample]</i>
Looking out my window from my mind's blown hotel room
I remember that cold, cold rainy night
Looking out my window

<i>[Royce Da 5'9"]</i>
Feeling all alone on the run
I'm still holding onto my gun
Body on it from the previous evening
I found out I'm wanted
Nigga's snitching is what the media screaming
I turn the channel on the TV, the first 48 on
Man, it ain't a loyal nigga on this TV nowhere
I cut the power off, disgusted
I'm contemplating taking a shower to take all the gunpowder off
But what if they bust in, busting
The nigga at the front desk act like he don't recognize me but shit
There's a reward for me, that nigga there hustling
I can't trust him I got to keep my eye on that window
Thinking about my kin folk, wife and babies
I can't talk to them, life is crazy
Whoever thought it would come to this over rap nonsense
Rap from the comfort of being attacked by my conscience

<i>[Chorus]</i>

<i>[Royce Da 5'9"]</i>
I think I'm a write a letter to my children

In case I don't make it
I'm up against time but I won't face it
I'm thinking about my life what it is now
And how one slug can change what it once was
I'm accepting the fact that I did that
I just want my wife back, I just want my kids back
I just want my niggas that don't snitch back
Cuz real niggas know real niggas ain't with that
But what's the use of me being real, I'm fucked now
I'm seeing sirens out the window thinking what now
Damn, am I to do?
Cuz now that shit hit the fan I suddenly ran out of crew
But fuck it, I'm in the shit, I'm a end the shit
No way for me to benefit though I'm innocent
I hear a knock on the door like let's finish this

<i>[Police storm room]</i>

<i>[Royce Da 5'9" talking]</i>
This life is about honor, respect but more importantly this life is about choices
You make them and whether they turn out to be good ones
or bad ones you live with them. You die with them

Let's go back to how it all started

<i>[Intro: Royce - whispering]</i>
You took a part of me with you
You took a part of me with you
Uhh, you took a part of me with you
Ahh, ahh

<i>[Chorus: Royce Da 5'9"]</i>
Last night we had a one night stand
But when I woke up in the mornin I missed you
You see, all I'm sayin is can I see you again?
Cause when you left you took a part of me with you
A part of me with you

<i>[Royce Da 5'9"]</i>
It's like it's a, urban legend, his mistake
Her confession; how 'bout it for a first impression
How 'bout it, with the Birkin lookin perfectly measured
Lookin certain as ever like she got her purpose together or whatever
Him, he was like a typical thug
Hat and glasses, he had to bag the baddest bitch at the club
He had a, way with his words, a certain - how should I put it?
"Je ne sais quoi" is how the French bitches would mention him
Never known for lovin them all, havin them drivin his cars
Havin them in the mall on his budget ballin
Him tryin to call her is the part of the issue
He said that when she left she took a part of him with her
He ain't a stranger to the one night stand
If you lovin them you's a sucker - that's the one night sayin
But why give him the wrong number and fuck him later on girls?
That's all I'm sayin; let me tell you how they meant
He approached her with the usual swagger
"How you doin?" Blahzay-blee-blah-blah-blah, the usual blabber
Now that the, ice is broken it's time to get linked
He asked her if he could buy her a drink - she nodded to him and said
"I don't really drink but thank you for the offer (aight)
Let me buy you one and we can finish talkin (let's do that then)
How 'bout some Patron, and have him fill the cup up
(Aiyyo bartender, can you fill that up?)
And when you finish up we can get into somethin" (where we goin?)
He like it's, easy as pie, you see it in his eyes
He tryin to turn her out tonight and leave her where she lies
Tell his friend he hung her out to dry
Another bitch taps him on the shoulder and he turns around surprised
She said, "How you doin? I think I know you from somewhere (I don't think so)
Yes I do, don't you drive that Mercedes out there? (yeah that's me)
You was drivin by me one day I was walkin (word?)
You pulled over to me and we started talkin" (oh okay)
While they talkin Shorty 1 grabbed somethin out her Birkin
Tossed it in his drink and watched it sink to the surface
Shorty number 2 kept talkin like she was tryin to stall him
Long enough for that thing to dissolve in
1 gives a signal, 2 says "Who's this?"
He's like, "Sorry I'm rude" then introduces
1 to 2 - they start hittin it off
just like he wants them to, it's wonderful
He thinkin, she's a skeezer, she's just easy
They both probably bi, so they should lead to a threesome
They both probably high cause neither one of 'em drinkin
They both keep gigglin so you know what he thinkin
He swallows his Patron shot, sets the cup on top
the bar, like we gon' fuckin party, don't stop
1 cues 2 then, says "Where yo' ride at?"
He says "Hey, I let valet decide that"
They laughed, they leave, he says "Mami drive that
I'm tired or I'm high, I just wanna lie back"
They get to the hotel, they get on the elevator
He ain't feelin so well like "Fuck it, I'll get better later"
They get in the room and start takin off they clothes
Dude steppin out his shoes while he checkin out the hoes
He's sick so he sits, 1 says "Lay down"
2 says, "I'll take off his clothes, okay now?"
He loses consciousness, he dreams of number 2 ridin him
Slidin up and down with no condom
Number 1 suckin on his dick usin both hands
Both hoes dressed like nurses, I guess they role playin
He comes to as the rooms circle and comes to a stop
He not certain or not is he still dreamin (where the fuck am I?)
He feels numb so he looks down and sees
that he's layin in a tub, full of ice from his knees
to his waist, in a bathroom with grief on his face
He feelin like he too weak to move so he waits
He feel around and notices a piece of paper stickin to the tub
from his bitches and it's written in his blood (WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS?)
He panics, he screams, oh God, what's happenin?
More readin, less prayin, no time for rationin
The letter reads "Never ask for shit
Cause you can get more than you ask for, we have yo' DICK!" (AHHHHH!)
The letter reads "Never ask for shit
Cause you can get more than you ask for, we have yo' dick!"

(Bitches! <i>[sobbing]</i>)
You took a part of me with you (my DICK!)

<i>[Chorus]</i>

<i>[Intro: Royce]</i>
Bein enlightened, is no longer enough
You must apply
Bein willin is no longer acceptable
You must do, make it count

<i>[Chorus: Royce Da 5'9"]</i>
Na-na-now, now
I, I, I gotta shake this
Na-na-now, na-na-now, now
I gotta, I gotta
I gotta shake this jail shit off me
He ain't gon' never sell, he gon' fail shit off me
I, I, I gotta shake this weak shit off me
Keep shit off me, leave it in the streets like bitch GET OFF ME!

<i>[Royce Da 5'9"]</i>
1977, July 5th
Conceived immaculately was me, my mom's gift
Unwrapped right there in the room like Christmas
My mind has been designed to do light distance
Run whole laps around y'all with my thoughts
You ain't hold back on yours, naw that's my fault
Now picture me fallin, all the way to the bottom
and I'm layin and callin, somebody come help me
find my strength to stop drinkin this poison
'fore I drown my gift, and yeah it's probably unhealthy
Cause I went so hard and woke up sober
I lost my good friend and broke up soldiers
Loco, goin hard as a locomotive
Self-loathin like I ain't chosen
Chose to bless souls, get exposed
Just know that I ain't foldin, huh
I gotta shake this

<i>[Chorus]</i>

<i>[Royce Da 5'9"]</i>
September 18th, 2-oh-oh-6
I roll up in the court thinkin "This should go quick"
On some couple thousand dollar suit type shit
From behind thousand dollar Cartier scripts
I witness my world tumble down like bricks
Two words she slurred, and it sounded like this (this)
One year (one year) travel through the room like moonlight
through the darkness, ooh it's heartless
How could, I beat two felonies then
turn around and lose like (lose like) like this!
My lawyer sayin stay calm, people sayin pray for him
They lockin my black ass up, like Akon
My wife at the crib goin crazy
Pregnant, yellin "I ain't havin no more babies!"
People sayin Preem ain't fuckin with me no mo'
Niggaz in the pen' lookin homo, NO!
I gotta shake this

<i>[Chorus]</i>

<i>[Royce Da 5'9"]</i>
(Yes!) Fresh outta jail feelin like Christopher Walken
The king of my city, swingin my dick as I'm walkin
Up to the 7-50, I open the door
My cuz and like several bitches make up the decor
I look in, he got a company porns
I tell him "Nah I'm good, I woulda chubbed her before"
I'm a new man but I could fuck with a whore
Nigga my dick's so hard it's probably touchin the floor
Ridin round in the back of a black luxury toy
Gettin sucked, like niggaz cannot FUCK with me boy!
When I look in the mirror, all I see is the real
You niggaz shouldn't be here, R.I.P. if you will
I'm the moment of truth (truth)
I'm the only significant thing roamin the scene soon as I go in the booth
I'ma do it this time, I'm feelin really defined
Unsigned to signed, nigga the city is mines

<i>[Chorus]</i>

<i>[Outro: Royce]</i>
Bitch get off me!
Yeah, get off me!
Bitch get off me!
Now do that make me a liar?
GET OFF ME!
GET OFF ME!
GET OFF ME!

<i>[Royce Da 5'9"]</i>
{C'mon!} I smoke good like a Rasta mon
All around me I'm on point like a octogon
I'm the optimum
I'ma be eatin until my belly stick out as far as the Octo-mom's
I'm an abomination
I'm an anomaly in conversation, I'm honorin confrontation
With a dime doin dominatrix on her
Disrespect me I'll wet you like condensation
Water (water) I'm a mixture
between Chris Brown and Chris Jericho, where's your daughter?
... I'm more than y'all can handle
At the Grammy's I'll send an Indian girl to the podium
to say "No thank you" like, Marlon Brando
The Oscars, "The Godfather"
Our father, you should praise me
I got some syphilis nunchucks wearin a AIDS key
That mean I'm sick when I kick SHIT!
Come to my concert get some SARS on the tip of your TIC-KET!
Hehe... I'm super cold
I don't spit, I shit, on your whole team
These niggaz think I'm from Cleveland
It's somethin the way I be, droppin the Browns off at the Superbowl
Game time, nigga let's hit the sto'
And if I gave a FUCK, this is where the hook would go
This is Street Hop, no rules
The rest of y'all niggaz watered down like old dudes
I'm willin to do what you won't do, I'm old school
I'm a mac, I punch rappers cause I'm (Pro-Tools)
I hit your Pause button, I cease frontin
You don't start nothin, it still might be somethin
You don't want nothin, you might have somethin
If I go over your head it's cause your ass duckin
FUCK the underground
I rhyme for them fly motherfuckers that's up, that ain't tryin to dumb it down
FUCK radio, FUCK video
I live by the Bust' (Scenario), what the dealio?
You could stop listenin, right now
I'm pussy eatin with bitches, I put the dyke down
Cause I'm a diamond, I'm llama rhymin, you Ramadan-in
Simon says that in my prime I'm here
Everywhere I go it's a crime there
While you on-lookin at me in the lawn chair
Cocaine (cocaine) propane (propane)
I'm a livin degenerate of the dope game
Relate to it - though you thought you probably couldn't
put a face to the opposite of how the FAKE do it
I'm hip-hop's savior, the old faithful
Sick shit, stop you off that liquid like brake fluid
This is Street Hop (Street Hop)

[Intro: Melanie Rutherford]
Check the scene, pappas
Slaughterhouse, still standin
There was a murder last night
And the shit didn't really sit right with me
So I had to tell a story
Ohhhhhhhhh baby!
Blood on the walls, street life

[Joe Budden]
America's worst nightmare, ahead by light years
Hip-Hop's only shining star in the night's air
Right here, don't fight fair, what I write yeah
Might there, throw 'em off like they Bobby Knight's chair
I been where you tryin to be, I'm already hot
All about cake, Betty Crock' and spit ready rock
They know my bar came venom in a bezzie rock
Kicks from Fight Club, outfit from Eddie Brock
I'm goin for the kill, focused on a steady plot
John Wilkes the Booth like when he dead aimed his nezzie shot
You listenin to hip-hop's finest
You rewind this, Slaughterhouse behind this

[Joell Ortiz]
I like rap, this shit is cool, I'm better than mad niggaz
But I'm just as good a crack pitcher as a pad ripper
I say that to say this
Don't let mad liquor turn me to a bodybag zipper and not a ad-libber
Couple joints ago I was right on that ave wit'cha
Mad bigger than the cats David Tyree had last winter
I'm not a made-up character
That's a Puerto Rican Brooklynite with two kids y'all see in them mag pictures
And however I gotta feed 'em I will
All they ever gon' need in life is just, me and my will
Interfere with that it's gon' be more than a beat that I kill
Disrespect with an indirect and you will see if I'm real

[Crooked I]
Fuck you blood-suckin parasites
I'm bringin the terror right in front of your parents' sight
You parents' eyes, and yeah I wear a pair of pipes
I wear 'em like Sega like on a pair of thighs
I'm Eric Wright, I'm +Ruthless+, I terrorize
You'll either perish or be paralyzed; I'm a thousand degrees Fahrenheit
I'm even keepin them heaters when we perform
On stage rockin like we from Korn, the people roar
What they don't know it's a secret war
Inside of a rider I'm seekin revenge on the world for bein born!
And the desert eagle is "mi amor"
She'll fuck you to death, blow your brains, either or cause she a whore

[Royce Da 5'9"]
Allow me to reassure your stripe's worthless
Like a pair of Diadora's when it leaves the Adidas store
Don't be comparin us to rappers
Compare us to the Arabs, this a terrorist attack, uh - BOOM!
Lord have mercy, we here to destroy EVERY-thing
You niggaz is butter in front a FUCKIN machete swing
Motherfucker I'm fly, I ain't no scary goon
Try me and I guarantee you I'ma see you very soon
Leave a nigga ass out like Prince, take his bitch
Put my +Graffiti Bridge+ right +Under Her Cherry Moon+ (woo!)
We notorious, pushin them Porsches
Y'all niggaz the orphans; US, we the warriors

[Interlude: Melanie Rutherford]
Ohhhhh, wait a minute papis
Royce, slow down baby

[Joe Budden]
This rap shit is a workout on my legs (why?)
A nigga goin hard on his bike but two million dudes is jumpin on the pegs
They know when that raw shit get recorded
Either let your speakers enforce it or lay down in a moshpit
Of course it's the bosses, actin like officers
Runnin in these corporate offices
Hungry lookin for a four-course dish no matter what the cost is
Like the world's lawless so we don't know what remorse is
Cause the V need like a thousand horses
Slaughterhouse hoodie on, that's my new couture shit
It's Jumpoff! He be the best
Computers rank me number 1, blame the BCS
It's they fault nigga

[Joell Ortiz]
Ask about your boy, I'm nice with my hands
Maybe that's why, every last thing I write is a jam
Minus the fans, the flights to Japan, I am the man
Anyone who feel they could see me is in dire need of a eye exam
My mind expands wider than the fanbase of a fire band
And what I release from my diaphragm
Sticks to you, like the wrists of Spiderman
Fool a average listeners what you liars can do but you will die a scam
When I die they will retire my entire hand
For years of scripted whoop-ass, makin intruders try a can
I guess the moral of the story is Joell's victorious
And e'rything's all gravy like Notorious

[Crooked I]
I left a nigga dead cause he said he was ready for I
Let the Beretta give him wings since he said he was fly
I'm in my Chevy ridin to "Bar Exam" and "Mood Muzik"
They the closest to "Reasonable Doubt" and "Ready to Die"
Crooked I, watch for snitches and wire devices
My fo'-fifth, fire in crisis, lift you higher than prices
All my ice, and on the mic, I am the nicest
Me and my bitch ride for life like Osirus and Isis
Yeah, word to Run-D.M.C. I'm +Tougher Than Leather-face+
Never threw a gun in the trash but they call me Weapon Waist
It's like you movin from the projects to the Hamptons
The way my hammers be sendin bastards to a better place

[Royce Da 5'9"]
Let me set it straight, they fans been led astray
Niggaz keep gassin with guns with unleaded spray
They don't know they one flow, one medic away
From bein taken away from here in the leaded state
I handle all of my serious issues with metal
I stick you so deep in the earth your zipper can tickle the devil
I'm skippin the pick and the shovel
I'm pickin you up and I'm shovin your head in the mud until your kickings is level
Pardon I live for the moment, you rhymin I give the atonement
Like the Indians, I scalp and I wig the opponent (yeah)
But I'm a chief, matter fact I'm a BEAST
I'm a motherfuckin Slaughterhouse G
BOOM!