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    [Intro - Royce Da 5'9]
    DJ’s and MC’s (Oh!)
    Coming up next is the incredible (oh!)
    We takin’ it back to the beats and the rhyyyymes

    [Royce Da 5’9]
    5’9 is BACK, about to make a nigga spin on his BACK
    Not on a cardboard, on the ground wit’ people surroundin
    Lookin down at him lookin astounded
    Ready to draw around him; an outline of his body in chalk form
    This nigga here let them trigger talk for him
    His niggaz’ll bark for him, for real, his hearts warm
    So you’ve been warned, I don’t even need to be drunk, (Go Go Go Go Go Go Go Go Go…)
    Forever the liquor is rootin’ me on
    I turn tables fast as Jam Master Jay do
    I'm N.W.A., I choke hoes like Dre
    Poke holes in the pavement, throw foes in they graves
    And you can choose, between a broke nose or a A.K.
    I make movies like Cube 'cept I use hammers
    YEP! - I shoot but I don't do it with cameras
    NOPE! - So you can call me Malcolm
    You can all witness what I be doin to all of these rappers (yes!)
    Wit ch’all sloppy tactics; don't try to copycat me
    if you ain't try ta box me back
    And watch your back, don't take another LOOK into the eyes
    of a nigga that's willin to ride 'til he blind

    (Fuck a hook.. fuck a hook)
    Chika-chika-chika, Royce.. 5.. 9.. (he's baaaaack)
    Yeah, and it's on
    (Fuck a hook.. fuck a hook.. fuck a hook)
    Chk-chka-chka-chka, I will rhyme all day
    YES!

    I'll show you the back of your brain
    Slap you with the back of the gun
    Clap you when the rappin is done
    I aim to hit, I pack macs, accurate ones
    Change the clip, I send rappers back where they from
    Changin fast, the game I ask is not a sport
    I'm tired of bein a fuckin day late and a dollar short
    And I'm back! All of you rap niggaz hide your mics
    I'm ridin, dyin, and I ain't flyin by on them bikes
    I'm walkin, talkin, you eye me you dyin tonight
    This iron is showin you the shine designed by Christ
    And I, am the head reaper about to sic shit
    You about to see dead people without the Sixth Sense
    And yeah, takin food off my mother's table'll
    get you killed regardless, like my brother's label
    My heart and arteries a part of me, that'll test the truest
    We can do it, put your vest into it, yeah

    (Fuck a hook.. fuck a hook.. fuck a hook)
    Chka-chka-chk, you don't wanna play with him today
    Yea - NO!
    Yeah, hardcore! Rhymes galore!
    OH! Givin you what you need
    Like I told you BEFOOORE…

    Yeah, the rap game is DEAD, I'm bout to breathe life in it
    Bring it back to when niggaz was cipherin
    Yeah, back in the DAY, when nobody needed radio play
    I was straight long as my radio played TAPES
    And this went on before all of them pay dates
    We was back flippin and wind millin to save face
    These days, we'll give you the mac so stay in your place
    I hope before you lay on your back, you sayin your grace (pray!)
    These new cats that rap to me they groupies
    You never see 'em in Max Julius or them Guccis
    Or they would’ve got robbed for them Diadores
    or the Gazelles, we the store, we take, we sell your
    items we took, have you goin to tell
    We crooks, we either goin pro or goin to jail
    I know I'ma spare - many lifes
    This rap shit is comin with ME, cause don't nobody know how to share

    (Fuck a hook.. fuck a hook.. fuck a hook)
    Chka-chka...
    (Get in your mind, get in your mind
    Get in your mind all day!!)

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