Artist: Royce Da 5'9" Album: Tabernacle: Trust the Shooter Song: Dead President Heads Typed by: Nickolye16@aol.com [Intro: Royce] Uhh, we in here countin dead president heads, uh, yeah Up in the years it's been up in the mil's, of dead president heads and countin They put pictures of dead president heads on green long papers Then went and put dead president heads on mountains How we ain't gon' make it? You know what? [Royce Da 5'9"] I went from women askin "What's the scent of your fragrance?" to center of attention, to dinners in Vegas Then all the way to Japan rackin up yen Now I'm all the way back, and I'm actin like Dennis in Vegas, stackin up wins I'm a young black boy, armed, dangerous To those who wanna come and try to harm or change him While they livin in anguish, while I'm livin in real nigga harmony Energy around me blend together like falsetto, tenor and bass All intelligence is on God level All memories formed in melodies from the '70s And all hail to all dinners and plates And all hail to the cartels, and we out on a yacht And you know how we know that we are and you not? Because y'all are lookin at our sails/sales I'm a motherfuckin one-man army I'm more R than all, I put the 'R' in ourselves Uhh, I'm the one they can't generalize Every time I come through straight, they wave minimize Why? It's probably cause I gun through they, gay enterprise Niggaz get crowned quick these days Street this, best this, king that, we ain't seen that All we see around your clique is squad cars Niggaz need to get Crown Vic'ed these days Stop kickin it, you couldn't fit in my old socks Let alone my shoes I'm not a street nigga, I'm just a chip off the old block I ain't rocked with an entourage since '07 Niggaz dissed Marshall after they copy his whole reference Like we won't send an actual firin squad to they studio That'll Basquiat they whole session A lot of niggaz dope but none concern me though I got that 'Pac, Big L, Pun eternity flow I got that blowin that weed, takin that last drag in and tossed in the infirmary glow I'll hit your broad in the gall bladder, with this bald dagger Have her hollerin "Not the knife!" 'Til she havin an orgasm And all of her juices is haul-assin, down the thighs God dropped me off in the drop with the crossroads with crossed toes and dotted eyes I'm not alive, I wasn't born, I got a ride Uh, get your popcorn, idolize cause I've arrived This is Cam Newton throwin bullets with the band shootin This is beat submission from Bas Rutten This the we-conditioned-to-spaz crew, it's proven Nigga pay your dues, you're past due here, this cash rules You're lookin at the wrong paper, this bad news Relax junior, you still think you're in high school But you not, but you will be lookin at yo' last new year Hah, boo-yah; bombs over Baghdad Compliments since 7 Mile, Fenkell Ave, Cash and Poo Bear With directions to just go blastin through there I ain't stressin 'bout none of you poindexters' responses I ain't tongue wrestlin with no artist unless it's Ashanti Nigga this, God, Gandhi, Kevlar labcoat mixed together with leather bathrobes like Piels and Fonzie Cool science, I'm around lions and giants You there, Ryan's here No one can hear you cryin where I'm at, the highest tear/tier One diss track could tear your whole act up like the Flatbush Zombies grippin the Mack truck, with Travis Scott, hittin your MacBook I'm not a pioneer I'm the last of a dyin prayer Livin in, forever, ever, ever, ever ever in laughter And ever since that heffer put me on MediaTakeOut I ain't fucked a basic bitch since I got sophisticated bitches comin to my place askin "Is it safe to sit?" I said, "Only if you have to take a shit" Country chick named Delores, I let her sit on this Mason dick Rappers blow up and get to shoutin out designers I like to thank my notebook, it got me out of the binders Blacks never had each other's backs Rappers sayin "All Lives Matter," OK, now we actually spineless I'm into psychology nowadays, she say she bad I'll probably brainwash her like Hollywood did Stacey Dash A lot of guys out slangin for a belt buckle like Pootie Tang Wada-tah, my damey 5'9" the illest MC of all time right now and all the time Kneel right in front of me like field sobriety young'n, or fall in line Uhh, right now I'm piranha dippin in the waters of Flint with the Slaughters and Em Come on in dummy, the water's fine Sniff around, I smell just like money, I ain't hard to find I'm doin big things This bitch asked me do I got at least 50 shades, just the other day I said, "Come here, let me kick game I got more than 50 shades and just grey is the colorway" I gave my momma a pic of myself in a big frame and a card that says "Bitch I'm Rick James" for Mother's Day Uhh, I just thank the Lord and pray for more I just lifted the skirt of the devil, I don't really care how you dresser/dress her Nigga I'm just out here to take the drawers Make the winner fall on the track, let nature take its course I'm a product of the old Death Row camp I ain't a fan of his, he might wanna be standin clear I come with the +Cannon+, not the cameras, uh, I ain't Shannon Briggs But let's go champ, let's slow dance Kill you with the first and give you seven mo', necromance Best flow versus yo' petrol rants You gassin, this that new black Bent', blue Aston This that who dat against who askin, boo-yah again '99 the Outsidaz told me I wouldn't last, I'm too arrogant But here I am, two boys, two girls, two eras in And they over there on pills and heroin Forks in they careers so that's real embarrassin If I could just, get you clean through my charities I might just let you breathe through me vicariously But then again I might not, cause I don't write sparingly I'm torn between get along, fight, and "Why can't we?" Fuck the Stitches approach If I have to show up, I'm slashin your throat Your arms are too O.G. Maco to box with O.G. Wacko the GOAT I'm not a factor, I'm the whole problem, down to subtract for a fraction of folks Uhh, your favorite artist a diva I put leaves around the head of the non-believers like drawings of Ceasar Wake me when the sleepers are done ignorin me bruh I'll be flyin with a full tank of gas, on ether If you from the block, watch y'all sons Watch y'all daughters, cause I saw a murder Slaughter much as I saw hot sauce and hot dog water Uh, I came a long way from wishin under the stars But I ain't come all of this way, just to say I've come this far Coppin paintbrushes with black cards, there's no limit when it comes to this art No need for Twitter followers, I dodged prison I'm the non-equivocal black and at large Listenin to a Timbaland track in a villa in Calabasas I'm that same little Cringer and Battle Cat kid Addict specialty pen and pad scenematics spazzin Fuckin with a bitch about as bad as my spendin habits I got nowhere askin "Can I have it?" All the valuables I have in this world, I had to take it Had to open King Tut's tomb up, in my imagination Had to separate fear from respect, then admiration Get rid of your fears, time to remove doubts and Think about it, there's two sculptors named Gutzon and Lincoln who carved dead president heads who got paid dead president heads by the president, to move a mountain Uhh, contemporary art deco We keep the shit rockin like the dials of Art Basel Stompin through this hip-hop shit like it's our step show, we survive We should have bar mitzvahs for these bars, we the gods We should shoot bar missiles with these bars, beat the odds Look at the car, see the rides Don't be surprised, just realize We ain't runnin for president, so we ain't worth shit, 'less we alive