[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!!)