Royce Da 5’9″ – No Radio (The Bar Exam 4 Album)

They figure you die, I learned they take away my wealth
All of that should cease, cause I feel like quitting
(I) don’ paid my dues, (I) don’ learned more from my mistakes
All these niggas that used to page me, everyday that I dealt

Ha, true motherfuckers know
Yeah, up in the studio getting blowed
This be the realest shit I ever wrote
But they all gone, y’all wrong, (I) page myself, because
Impatiently we blazing them AK’s, to earn the respect
If you was true as me, then this for you, but I do it for
Wit Shady, and poping my glock on the block to dropping on Koch!
If you was true as me, then this for you, but I do it for me
How can I go from rocking wit Dre, to falling out
Or these fools in the street, that wanna do me, nigga
I can’t handle it, I’ll eventually get arrested
This music is me, it’s no ruining me
(I) learned to behave myself, people choose sides when
This music is me, it’s no ruining me
Mistakes that I’ve made, I’ve learned to regret
To blow up and grow up, back and away from this rapping beef shit
On a label that’s foul or made you on radio play
Yeah, up in the studio getting blowed
It’s Ryan, I just threw Detroit’s crown away!
Take myself away from my family, is so selfish

(I) could guide myself, through the game myself
This be the realest shit I ever wrote
Yeah, hopin you true motherfuckers know
You taking care of too many people, to go and lose
(I) do my music and speak truly, without the influence of movies
(I) don’ been in the trenches for years, in this rap shit
I do this music for me, I take time and put pride in it
Give you the chills, kill hip hop, and save myself
I’m on the verge of doin some things, that won’t help – shit!
I’m the truest MC, as hot as you need me to be, as cool as can be
I can’t help shit, lately I been ignoring rules
Truest shit I ever spoke
I’m the truest MC, as hot as you need me to be, as cool as can be
True motherfuckers know
Back to the factory, rap for ME, when I feel like spitting
To be in the lab, wit young man, making a track at least
Truest shit I ever spoke
Royce is going to fucking kill you
Yeah, up in the studio getting blowed
Every breath I breathe, every second I have

In the basement, rapping in peace, Patiently Waiting
Then I learned in any grade in my school
(I) could have made you today, (I) could raise ya brow
Where my name is mention is fear, compared to that shit
Truest shit I ever spoke
Go out and kill a clown a day, don’t call me Royce no more
It’s only so many times, I could let my temper get tested
This be the realest shit I ever wrote

I do this music for me, I take time and put pride in it

Royce Da 5’9″ – Combat (The Bar Exam 4 Album)

Fall back and get your car jacked while the engine masturbate the twin pipe
(5, 4, 3, 2, 1)
My reality BDP
Instead of battle rapping with you, I’d rather speak in rounds
All you ever gonna find in my DNA is combat
Y’all only do music with people ‘cos they hot, so your point is stupid
I’m super strapped with a rocket launcher – Google that
Y’all trying to box with a nigga that’ll beat your ass, but I’d much rather beat a case
Got the K cocked, stay true
I be killing at will
I’ll spray you and your homie
[DNA Beat Change]
I’m just tryna be the one who finally make Rihanna faithful
Nothing but violence and rage in my DNA – it’s combat
Y’all PDA, I’m TNA
Niggas must want death by tomorrow, if you trying war with me today
Don’t even flinch at me – I’m James Brown
[Verse 2]
[Verse 1]
All you ever gonna find in my DNA is combat

Soon as one of y’all step by the bar I alleviate
I don’t have to have a hit, shit could be a bunt
I found a girl who love me almost as much as Peter Rosenberg loves Kendrick Lamar
This ain’t really what you want
Everywhere I go, these niggas know I’m ready for combat
Y’all industry, y’all industries where the Ubers at
I just ride with the gun, cash, and a good girl that’s gone bad
Then I keep my .40 Glock on me. This has no safety on it, it’s fully loaded, there’s one in the chamber at all times, so that means if I need to, I just aim and squeeze
Was I the only one heartbroken when I found out French Montana fucked Sanaa Lathan?
Everywhere I go, them niggas know I’m ready for combat
I just wanna stay the fuck away from you and do a joint or two with Joyner Lucas
True veteran, Sickening flow you couldn’t do better than
Lay a hand on me
I’m ruthless black like Dr Dre crew
You ain’t built to fit in that jump suit
Back to back with me blasting iron, ratchet waving
Y’all niggas actin’ like broads is all your fault, that Remy Ma the hardest rapper out
Y’all reality Stevie J
Evil D, I’m CTJ
I just want all my hoes who don’t know that they my hoes yet to act their ages
I just want to drive all my hoes crazy like the one that played That’s So Raven

Show you you ain’t shit when I come through
I’m in the streets where the movers at
I beef, y’all mediate
Have you land on him like Scoob and Scrap
Everywhere I go, them niggas know I’m ready for combat
Never been a star, but I’m blessed
Y’all niggas story long, not me; I abbreviate:
And I ain’t really fascinated with your ‘Benz price

I’m ready for combat
Y’all what all the flash and all the autographs about
I don’t got comrades
Rae Carruth in a topless grey coupe
The roof is back, get in the car
And I promise y’all I’m not a hater; I’m just aggravated
Caps flying like we had a graduation
Only time you heard about me backing up is the armoured truck beeping sound
I got real nigga in my DNA
Gettin’ paid my TV rate
Everywhere I go, these niggas know I’m ready for combat
Fuck a deal, fuck a VMA
Shut the game down
Show up to your crib, dig a six foot hole, introduce you to your new residence
I’m the illest that live
I innovate

I beat you down
Y’all DVD

Y’all CBA

Royce Da 5’9″ – Gov Ball (feat. Westside Gunn & Conway) (The Bar Exam 4 Album)

And end up on the moon
Don’t trust my ways
[Verse 1: Westside Gunn]
[Verse 2: Conway]
I guess you ‘spect me to wear dress shoes
Lean by the pool
[Chorus: Royce Da 5’9" & Westside Gunn & Both]
They playing basketball
That nigga had to tell his boo
$3K for the shades
Or be wearin’ leather chaps with the pants underneath
All I do is real nigga shit like a
I’ma shoot the fuck nigga blocka for the fame"
I’m in front of the stove wit’ it
She may just stay saner, I may just pull up in the wraith
Flow outta this world
We taking all comers
But I don’t think these niggas real killas
Well tell one of they pussy ass to link up with me then
Pussy, I’m never beefin’ on a record
Pieces of you left in the street nigga
We playing take they ball from ’em
While all these rap niggas at the governor ball
I beat niggas to death
And I don’t assume
Ay yo
These rap niggas at the governor ball
I’m the martian man
Three stands for some noodles and I’m straight
Niggas rap good about them bricks
$3K for the shades

Spilled Perignon on my suede ’cause
My shooter been buggin’ since niggas off’ed his man
I was born physically conflicted with Christ
Ay yo, these rap niggas at the governor ball
Follow Alicia Keys, make her face plainer
Lean by the pool
Leave niggas in sections
I’m back in eight balls
These niggas… Y’all think these niggas tough
Where she play and just David Blaine her
There’s only one of me
I’m back in eight balls
[Verse 3: Royce Da 5’9"]
These rap niggas at the governor ball
And be hangin’ with "Yes" dudes
Tell your wife chill out with the retweets
I’m fuckin’ they broads
But I can’t even fathom rap running me
I’m back in eight balls
But never bought a gram
I’m back in eight balls
I’m back in eight balls
While all these rap niggas at the governor ball
$3K for the shades

Once you hit a nigga in the eye
I can easily imagine runnin’ rap

While all these rap niggas at the governor ball
These rap niggas at the governor ball
I know what’s goin’ on
Ay yo, these rap niggas at the governor ball
Lookin’ like half a fag
That’ll teach niggas a lesson
Cause now they know the ribbon in the sky
Bout to have a glass of "flat tummy tea"
Now that’s a market plan, yeah
[Chorus: Royce Da 5’9" & Westside Gunn & Both]
That nigga had to tell his boo
They passing around Moet bottles, but I don’t gossip
Lil’ dirty nigga, type to piss and don’t wash his hands
I’m going old Lexus Hov, sellin’ blow
Everyy shirt sell out in minutes
Fuck the halfway house, I’d rather wait
Wiggle and shake to get through my day
One hundred shots in that magazine nigga
Machine nigga
Ay yo, these rap niggas at the governor ball
$3K for the shades
Still duckin’ my third felony, I’m on skates
These rap niggas at the governor ball
I’m fuckin’ they broads
Caking all summer
And in peace you niggas restin’
[Chorus: Royce Da 5’9" & Westside Gunn & Both]
Get you whacked it only cost a band
Pink Bape hoodie, feel like the Harlem Cam
Ugly chain on purpose on my Nas shit
Though I’m God sent, I was sent through the light
Lean by the pool
Grizelle is the illest, no debate
I’m fuckin’ they broads

When bricks went on sale I was going insane
Free all the real niggas locked [?] nigga
Release three in your chest
Though I was meant to only exist in the night
Check the score, the Rolex is gold
I’m back in eight balls
I had to tell that bitch, "Don’t touch my Wades!"
Don’t trust my ways
Ain’t no rainbow
They gon’ change though
I’m back in eight balls
That nigga had to tell his boo
And the waist trainers, grab a washcloth
What the fuck’d I do? Diss a whole bunch of pussy-ass rappers?
Don’t trust my ways
My shooter said, "Look, you don’t even gotta pay me

Twenty shots, every bullet in that cartridge land

If I reach it’s for a weapon
I’m more than a street nigga, you guessed it
Lean by the pool
Thuggin’ for a purpose on my Pac shit
I just been down and diggin’ my crate
100 round plumb at least five in your brain

Royce Da 5’9″ – Nickle-9Ne-Alooya (The Bar Exam 4 Album)

Call the shit murder the vertebrae then drop her off at the crib with vertigo
And this is what you call in y’all bag, then I’m in a Goyard trunk
Baby I’m getting cash money, getting the last laugh, the last word too
Nigga fuck you, that’s a million dollars, still a million dollars
I’m just joking with my good friend, I’m just so in my happy place
I just know from my head to my toe I’m the greatest, y’all can keep ya ho and ya accolades
Got em blindfolded, tying em up in leather like I’m Edward Scissorhands in some boxing gloves
Nickel Hallelujah
I done seen it all, been through it all so you know I know what is what
Y’all need to take a soul searching class
I got your baby mama hyperactive, piping her while she asking the lord in Michael Blackson accent “Lord, what in the mother fuck?”
And that gave me a complex I’m still stricken with I call the shit the Napoleon
I’ma need my headstone to say “y’all finished or y’all done?”
Ballin’ like I’m in the A-Town with Terio in the bleachers
Never ever make me no underdog
Dre taught me to not oversaturate before he offered me a deal Dr.
Hitting it just as if the chick was with the S&M S&M, I ain’t never stressin em y’all are the nervous wrecks
Please, consider respecting me, I’m willing to fucking pistol bust over it Now can you get the fuck over it?
My sense is keen and I got that ivory weighing on the triple beam while I dish a queen
And now that all of that shit is clearly behind us, y’all really expect me to regret being 19 and going and getting a million dollars?
Yeah, I survived a lot of savage shit
Y’all are karaoking with Dirty Harry, tearing your stereo into pieces
With ya ho fucking me, both hands stroking the pole looking like she tryna roll up a sleeve, I call it the turtleneck
A lot of my courses were difficult, so of course the teacher would tell me I ain’t bout to be too much more than just a custodian
Ain’t a heavyweight in the world fast enough to stop me
Gassin’ bitches and spittin’ petroleum
All my old bitches before you slit your wrists if you can’t stomach it get some Imodium
Right before I got another offer for a dollar amount you know that I had to take
As a kid I used to just be looking pitiful
Now do I wanna pitch it down? Hell yeah nigga that’s a million dollars
The Slaughterhouse album I’d like to drop it, the New Edition biopic came out and now Joe wanna be Bobby so fucking bad
Never write about me like that

I believe you can speak some shit into existence, deleted my 9 to 5 narrative
The smallest part of beef is gon always be all the things you utter bruh
[Intro: Muhammad Ali]
Letting the non-believers know I don’t need to go diamond Ryan, it’s forever bruh
I’m an addict, I personify arrogance
I’m over here just destroying y’all sun My mind is so much more enlightening, who be tryna throw shade?
Bar Exam 4 y’all, the there is no competition edition
Never make me stick to one, it’ll just make me angry
No features, nobody scratching on it, this the I just been itchin’ edition
Hallelujah nigga Hallelujah
And never talk about who’s gonna stop me!
Ain’t nobody gonna stop me!
Nigga that’s 20 million nickels, that equals 20 bitches and an island
Next, I blow out her back while she sitting vertical on top of dick in a convertible
Bulletproof glass is on my ride, ride around here like the Vatican
I’ve been vibing like it’s Attica
The bitch got the Arsenio Hall from “In Living Color” butt
Now you’re talking unlimited dimes, and a hundred million pennies
I’m a level up from buying stilettos to impress em
Now I got a bitch so fine half the time I fuck her, rest the time I just stare at her
When I walk in the kitchen now I want the ho to kiss the toe and lick the linoleum
The only actual difference between me and the Holy Spirit is the Trinity and the podium

Royce Da 5’9″ – Chopping Block (feat. Slaughterhouse) (The Bar Exam 4 Album)

This should be fossilized
[Outro: Joe Budden]
I put this Tec back and give you a gold black eye, blaow
I can’t fight you cause, you might adjust my Midas touch
None given, I’m out of fucks, uh
My mind deep as minin’ for diamonds, I raise MacGyver brow
Rap niggas back on the chopping block
up Turn that M.O.P.
Really I’m saving you, your label’s raping you
I use they bodyparts to paint a Basquiat
Same goal when niggas was bumping Scott LaRock
Then his condom popped
Stomp you till you feel like you living in Waka Flocka’s sock
Y’all just lie, y’all just falsify, y’all should be ostracized
We are not friends, we just connected dot to dot

Rap niggas back on the chopping block
Beg for your pardoning, your bothersome bar schemes
I changed up for the future, my mask was off in the past
Happy to be back guys
Dice game with the re-up
I put my foot in yo’ ass with all my old verses
I really don’t understand why these imposters are popular
You prolly like it but keeping it lowkey, bottom lock
Shit, I blew checks before I was verified
She a head doctor minus the lab coat
Every night mom’s praying that they ain’t mopping me up
I could box, that’s why niggas opt to not
Transforming your anus like an Autobot
I know the Dre that did beef before the Dre that did beats
With the llama I’m a farmer, I’m outstanding in my field
Upset, veins popping out of her neck, she give me mad throat
A highroller, Cairo’ed like I’m Chyna and Tyga child
My skill is a dead giveaway if you will, now that’s wordplay
It’s obvious, somebody gotta be mocking us
Holy organs, I mean it in the worst way
Fuck a verse, when it’s family it just run in your veins
Come out that house, back to yo mom and yo papa spot
I’m Eminem’s negative picture, black GOAT
Oh man, we in slaughter mode, Paul Rosenberg, pallbearers and Em
Same goal though niggas swear you shocking, jock
I’m nice, cuz
Since I been in a Mercedes my ladies relate to that quote
My nigga Nottz on the beat
Who you know is an uncharted team parted with lean
Still the illest spitting, getting rid of powder puffs
[Verse 1: Royce Da 5’9”]
I’m up top getting mop from Mia, mama mia
To this day I die laughing with niggas who really kill people
And it could be onsight before a nigga even see you
Kill ’em before they body rot
Tell ’em that I’m contracted You see them lames?
Obviously, honesty’s not your policy
I’m from the era of gang culture and crack smoke
And hit parks and bargain a dream and step to the Carter regime
I philosophize, social stylist, them shits so timeless
It’s getting hot, you can feel the degrees

Say the gang broke up, shit, it wasn’t the gang
Give this bitch the biz, Markie, I beatbox a lot
To keep your wife from screaming out Jesus Christ she can bite the towel
Spinal column out of your body right by you and your bodyguard looking like lasagna and cottage fries
I don’t start but I finish you with a earth nap
40 caliber loud as fuck, for now it’s tucked
Yeah, rap niggas back on the chopping block
You hit rock bottom and go get your bottom rocked
I’m two seconds from smacking somebody face hard as hell
I’m confused like seeing my Jewish homie rocking a swastika
Mighta fucked one of you silver medalists wifey but
Arms stiffer than Shawn Marion when he ball-carrying
With that said, no proceeding, gimme lethal
His days’ll be numbered like a calendar, that’s the caveat
But the way shorty neck is positioning
E’rbody I turned into ashes, believe they earned that
He-Man, Hanna-Barbera action figure
I rap dope ’cause that was an escape for poor black folk
Assfucking a Cosmonaut
Now as far as the bars varying, I’m barbarian
You coward are out of luck, you Howards know how to duck
That’s ride by, dash off and we laugh
Come out your house without your pride
2Pac told us all America eats is babies
That’s right, rappers back on the chopping block
She receiving pipe from the nicest, my mic is Riker’s Isle
Any given Thursday you gon’ get with the church play
I’m five minutes from perfect timing I’m like the price is down
And wash Carhartt jeans, hard as it seem
Its like my sole purpose is giving my soul’s purpose
Crooked was born to defeat the odds a lot
And when it come to being an incredible spitter, my nigga
Retire or apologize, or die, you looking right in the fire
I’m just tryna stop you like my father was tryna stop me
Black snub that empty until they seal-freeze you
Either fact is a Papa Doc’s, back to your proper spot
While Stevie Wonder gawking at Rihanna’s exotic, erotic body through the wrong side of some top dollar binoculars
In lobbies where they never mopped the pee up
And I know that he listening
Different me, same song, Bryson Tiller agrees
Who’d be left if the social media era died?
Back to the county, back to three hots in a hostel cot
Y’all should not be allowed to run alongside my whip with the ostrich eye
Mask, gloves, and empties that would conceal diesel
Makes that other pussy not worth it

During Hanukkah ‘stead of rocking his Yamaka
Come out the colossal rocks back to your fossil watch
Bloggers’ll beat on my meat if Detox leak
While she spitting in the hole of my dick
[Verse 2: Joell Ortiz]
Rap niggas back on the chopping block What?
A killer on a powder high, Game 7, Lebron clapping, I’ll have your
A coward dies a thousand deaths, tells a thousand lies
Money wide in my pocket mocking that Hasim Rahman knot
I can’t believe I just sat back and told that lie
I been on another level since I came into the industry
Screaming "What’s popping Ak’?" Red bean, cocking shots
Tryna be hot as me or tryna see eye to eye
I been as real as could be
I slaughter militant rhymers, hold up
My life is foul sometimes I wish I could write this down
I heard your album, all sound like filler to me
Somethin’ sneakerheads usually leave in the box on the feet, hold up
Was all part of going bored to some bars to barking

[Verse 4: Joe Budden]
She just want a confidant, her man want a problem? Stop
Matter fact, who the fuck you know is harder than him?
Skip rap, let’s talk real people
That’s why I’m asking how they iller than me?
If I give a nigga a shiner consider the shit designer

Royce Da 5’9″ – Line In The Sand (The Bar Exam 4 Album)

Birthday instead of cake, I keep a pie lit like I’m landin’ a plane
Embracin’ crime like I’m supposed to die
You facin’ an ethernet
Even if smack ain’t got the fee correct
Nah, I’m old school, still trying to dance with Patra
Them twin rifles is coming out looking like Blue Ivy siblings, better trust
Nobody round this bitch is better than me
Bar Exam 4, this is the "Where in the Fuck is the Competition", nigga
How could you Violate somebody who got Chris Lighty wisdom, who never bluff
I’ll put three in your cap, it’s not a good time to try and chance the rapper

Everything on your mind that be on your lap like private dancers trappin
I like guns more, you the type to knife
My niggas got they rags and sticks in the sky, like they hitchin’ a ride
Any supposedly ill rapper can get it for free
You need to hire a yes man to talk you off your competitve edge
Bar Exam 4, this is the "There is No Competition Edition", my nigga
I’m more the type to go incite the riot
Hand on the Desert Eagle squeezing the reapers neck
You the competition? Only props I’ll give is you bout good as dead
My nigga King Los just tweeted out he the best
You takin a decease in that, I’m hoping to be the next
I look at opinions like I look at lickin’ an asshole, I respectfully disagree with that
This bigger than any kind of redemption this is Andy Dufresne
We can go for broke til things get repossessed
Prolly gonna be the first artist to add a body to his body of work
Bar Exam, where is the competition?
My nigga Ab-Soul say he the best
Greatest of all time, while these hard lines shake up the web
I look at opinions like I look at lickin’ an asshole, I respectfully disagree with that
The face of crime, like I’m the closing eye’s poster guy
Take your broad, show her more than just a front door and call that shit Lurch
There is no competition

I don’t like coonin’ unless you Mary Blige singing for chicken
The flyest nigga livin’ reside inside the land of the fame
My foot on the ledge tripping on all these woulda been, coulda been, shoulda been terrace(?)
Bar Exam 4, this is the "There is No Competition Edition", my nigga
Cyhi know he the best?
And no this ain’t no Kendrick Control move
This just a flow that never gets old, Malinda Williams in Soul Food
I’m more the type to hold the door, I’m nice
My nigga Ab-Soul say he the best
Rollercoaster ride through polarizing alcoholic lows and highs
The gods focus, I ball doper than Lamar Odom already wishin’ a nigga would
Not of this Earth trying to be godly of death cause I was Gotti at birth

Like Charles Oakley, in the Wizard of Oz
Bar Exam 4, this is the "Where is the Competition Edition", my nigga
Call me "so polite", dawg you Molson Ice
I don’t do memes and bickering, I see you out swing for the fences
And even though I think these guys are three of the freshest, ever
I’m more the candy paint type, you more the Mike and Ike
Y’all hopeless, every time y’all spit it I just envision lies
Prototype of pulverizing mics, avoid life’s
Now process that, I might just drop a track where Jim Hoffa at

Hoes finding Vanity from The Last Dragon tryin’ to romance the master
My nigga King Los just tweeted out he the best
And even though I think these guys are three of the freshest, ever
Bar Exam, where is the competition?
My discography just like a map to rapper body bags
Throw hollows and watch them go in your body as though they got invited
Bar Exam, where is the competition?
I’m from the ‘Mo, I’m more the type to drive the Ghost tonight like I’m the Poltergeist
Feared, revered rappers, Lupe Fiasco, tweet or text
Uh, I’m sitting here counting this grip cuz I be standing for change
Might as well write a lot of these verses while I’m inside of a hearse
We can flow for keeps, go til either one of us slumped over the speaker dead
Cyhi know he the best?
We can agree to disagree, we can leave it at that, or we can bet

Royce Da 5’9″ – Play My Music (The Bar Exam 4 Album)

I just popped a band-aid off the bands, that’s that doctor plan
Everyday I’m makin’ change at the park when I go meet my man for that ticket, that’s that meter man
She was just a virgin when we met, so I murdered that shit
Shit just might get greezy for them Jacksons, that’s that Tito, blam
I had gorillas see you with bananas, that Safari plan
Prayin’ for my downfall, that’s that evil plan
Any man who disrespect me any kind of way gon’ catch it every kind of way, that’s that OBJ
Tell your bitch to shut a bitch, she do it, that’s that slapper plan
That Panamera tighty-white, that’s that Speedo plan
Flossin’ ain’t the same, that’s that dental plan
That’s that prisoner’s plan, that’s that princester’s plan
Baddest night is playin’, I’m glad this night is playin’
Couple people had to keep the mad at this is man ’cause he keeps begging me to drink again, that drag you with me plan
I got manuever so they follow what I do and say
My bitch be actin’ like she tryna kill a nigga in the sack like Dominic Leru my nigga, that’s that Creole fam
Got that mass appeal, that’s that Primo plan
Bought that Paul McCartney and Ferrari’s plan
I ain’t talkin’ ’bout two different jewels, I got a jeweler fool
I blow the locks right off your apartment though like it’s your total shop
That’s that Michael Jackson plan, that’s that Beat It fam
Classic gypsy band, that’s that Hendrix plan

While I fuck my bitch in Calabasas, that’s that 4 AM
Unloadin’ loaded Glocks, patrollers rollin’ by
That’s my children’s hand, that’s my hero man
You throw the dice, you rollin’ though, you hot, or broke and old, you not
Made a couple dollars, might’ve copped a jewel or two
The static from that vinyl, that’s that needle plan
While I’m saying sorry and tryna get her back
Lo plan, got that Migos plan I said, I got that C.
I ain’t play that big today, ’cause that faith was playin’
Red dot on a nigga head, that’s that Pakistan
That shit there don’t even match, that’s that faithful fan
That’s that C.O. man, that’s my P.O., damn
44 pop right out of the compartment like I’m Robocop
Manicure my hands, that’s that polish man
Murder, it never show my hands, that’s psychotic man
That’s that Stevie plan, that’s that Beatles plan
That’s that UFO, that’s that take me to your leader man

It’s gon’ predict my whole day
Now I’m definitely buying recklessly in front the FED’s and IRS’s nigga, that h-o-t way
Imposter snakes on hand, watch you shake your hand
While I got that [drakeo pram, got that dako pram?]
Y’all just popped a molly, prolly popped a Xan’
Dirt all on my hands, blood all on my hands
That’s my video on Vevo, that’s that kilogram
That’s that Ricky Rose plan, that’s them OJ’s plan
And it fit me like a fucking glove, that’s that OJ fam
Had to throw my hands, that’s that wylin’ man
That shit Detroit radio be playin’, that’s that insta-jam
I gotta move accordingly to how the music move
Classics don’t retire, let that Kobe play
I’m serious with all my moves while my music play
That’s that Jay-Z plan, that HOV plan
Since he’s never one to pull up on me, that’s that traffic jam
Hope it ain’t your time to die tonight, that’s that sweeto man
Somebody got to die tonight, I’m [sippin’ tonics?], fam
Other children’s hand, that’s my car they hero land

Royce Da 5’9″ – Crack Baby Skit (The Bar Exam 4 Album)

It’s better than 2Pac and Biggie, then ain’t got shit on you
Biggie] [Sample: "Queen Bitch" – Lil’ Kim ft.
You niggas got some audacity
Say that again

What’d you say? What’d you say?

*Record Scratch*

"I’m better than 2Pac and Biggie"
[Kodak Black – Profile Interview for XXL Freshman 2016]
"I’m better than 2Pac and Biggie"
(Last time)

Royce Da 5’9″ – Beats Keep Callin (The Bar Exam 4 Album)

My parents keep callin’, the Lord keeps watchin’
Slaughterhouse, my mind’s two tons, hardest out like John Q’s son
I ain’t just the R, I’m every different letter
I’m the rubberband man, but I do more than count bands
And anywhere I go, all of these whores be jockin’
Mr. Jekyll, Nickel Nine, Ricky Grimes Hyde, Dr.
You ain’t on-point though, one minute, you popping trunks
I narrow down shit the Farrakhan way
Last war I stay strapped for it
Celebrating friendships, "Bro" this, "Cuz" that
I remember when I had to pawn all my jewelry
I’m creative when it’s beef, while you throw salt, I’m your baby mama and them new salt bae
And everything I say come natural, in this thing of beauty, like Alicia Keys face
I’m French kissing with a "bitch you" mentality
Seen ’em split the pie up and Pam sniff her entire two grams
And anywhere I go, all of these whores be jockin’
When it’s hard to understand me ’cause my jaws keeps lockin’
Throw ’em on the titty bar floor to lower a thot esteem
Next minute, you happy man, next minute, you sloppy drunk
You can find me anywhere the crime wave
Had to get my sight back, product of the old gun
You could be the hottest thing and still have the wrong team
What you niggas know ’bout making a move in a beef and truly committin’?
I don’t stand my ground, I just demolish niggas
Bite down, bite down, I had to

Seen people shot out the sky, being fly as they can
Back in high school, I really clowned

Molotov through your restaurant window
That’ll have whoever acting hardcore
Whatever, whatever, whatever
And if I miss your ass, then I guess you saved by the bell, like Zack Morris
Porter don’t trust you, I’m gon’ bust you, nigga Mr.
When you a fiend for the rhythm and the beats just keep callin’ ya
Taking me to your leader is like showing Chuck Norris where a glass door is
And anything I do from legal to illegal
‘Cause it’s hard to really focus when you’re tryna stack for ya
My parents keep callin’, the Lord keeps watchin’
This that "your career’s over" flow, for real
COs frisking your pregnant bitch, turning your kids away, thataway

Burning your beard away with Magic Shave
Bitch not only do I kiss and tell, I’m Orlando Brown when I describe them titties
They keep callin’ ya
I seen people die at the hands of the violence of man
Whatever, whatever
I got the arm out the black beatle, beating the drum
Let the labels talk and Desiigner mumble like Donald Trump
I said I’d do the right thing if Rosie let me ice cube them titties now
Mannequin challenging whole families, viva la drunk
Like you still tryna kill God
I’m Rick the Ruler in every different measure
Simple you against me you ain’t ridin’ with me
Make sure everything under your lip cut and your shirt is tucked in
Loaded cartridges, stolen cars with the Lowenharts
If I ain’t wake up from ’em, I won’t ask what y’all would do
Every January 1st, the ball keeps droppin’
I’ll assault they a la carte tray
When you niggas gon’ admit it?
Throwing money hitting everybody and they auntie up
Daughter calling some wack nigga "daddy" at movie matinees
This ain’t four-wheelin’, roll with coke, heroin, ‘caine
I’m savage, even though my tat issa knife, I’m keeping a gun
When it’s hard to understand me ’cause my jaws keeps lockin’
Fuck sipping 40 ounces, I’m sober out here, fucking hoes like 40 oz Van

Any rapper that want it, I’m Wack 100
I’m Schwarzenegger, you Sarah Conner
I move like that nigga Spike Lee when he was Mookie
I’m talking ’bout the self-proclaimed "King of Detroit"
I don’t want another man’s cheap-ass ways on my doormat
And your favorite rapper act like Eric Andre
When you a fiend for the rhythm and the beats just keep callin’ ya
That’ll in a shallow grave, casualty of a cabaret
I’m Sylvester Mindbender
Hundred yard dash through the hood, talking money runs
[Part 2: "Lockjaw" Remix]

I spark fours, that’ll arch floors
While I’m just tryna stay outta jail
Before my time R.I.P. Bobby Krissy
All we did was write raps, tryna get so drunk
Using that money counter, getting rid of them funny ones
I had to bite down, bite down
Even when we deal with Saturdays, my children still know that
Invite ’em to a scrap (yeah)
But this is realer than movie depictions
[Verse 2]
Bangin dope-dealin-Hov and No-Ceilings Wayne
Even when you shoot your lil uzi vertical in broad day
I’m standing on the corner with my boys, beat boxin’
I do this shit the ski mask way, like I’m Lil Kodak
With those who told ya they adore tryna back-door ya
And I’m just having an open workout in Heaven, tryna get me a good sweat
Made some bad decisions so early on in the process
By now, my life’s so righteous, I don’t even sleep with groupies
I’m Jae Millz looking up at the sky like, "Ayo B.I.G, am I good yet?"
You know the ones, too wrinkled to go in them slot machines
They already lost it, nigga, it’s a lost cause
Nigga I’m Pusha T doing quiet numbers, getting silent money, I’ll retire from it, I don’t dress loud, I throw the flyness on it

Doing parkour, I’ma dog Porter
They keep callin’ ya
Or Bobby, Whitney, flow K-Ci, JoJo
A nigga had to bite down, bite down
[Verse 1]
While I’m hula hoopin’ dollars for that snarly tooth
And I’m just celebrating it at the mall, we shoppin’
I’m standing on the corner with my boys, beat boxin’
Was so embarrassed by the help that no one offered to me
The dogs keep barkin’ at the top dog
It’s Nickel Season, the fever’s begun
It ain’t no squashing it after you push a certain button

Brought the dog for, recording harsh thoughts for the art form
I can give your chick eleven inches if she let me get the leverage
Too enlightened for a check (yeah)
Rip the game apart and you are not worthy like Wayne & Garth
How can I be hated in the streets, when I’m on even on my off day
Slipping, now we in your crib to tie up your fam
Zoning off the bottle, we only taught to fight back
Started out like Nas, shoot gun, heavy is the head with the crown
Ryan’s still alive, played nice ’cause the drama still flies
All I could do was bite down, bite down, down

They keep callin’ ya
Bone chilling, cold with no feelings
Let the Tech N9ne go KC, MO., bro
[Part 1: "Bad and Boujee" & "FuckWithMeIKnowYouGotIt" Remix]

Sometimes to see the bigger picture, you need a wider screen
That I’m better than the youngins, that I’m better than the legends
I had people out to get me, my album wasn’t even out yet
Comas after comas that were alcohol induced
I can be president of hip-hop which is let me switch endeavors
Whatever, whatever, whatever
"Fam" this, borrow that, loyal this, trust that
Y’all can run while the gats blowing
(If Young Metro don’t trust you, I’m gon’ shoot you)
Lawyers, with those in power tryna blackball ya
I seen some people reaching they dreams, some people destroyed
Never did I dumb it down or did I settle
They keep callin’ ya
It’s hard to find employers like accountants that’s loyal
Trying to find someone to come perform for me ‘fore I fuck the whole entire country up
My future look like juju in a body suit
We only talk survival, walking home, we just might scrap
I’m on bando time when I ride through cities
That thang pop, pop pop
Voodoo and como talle vous

And everything you say greasy and made up like a piece of cheesesteak
I’m the first one gunnin’, last one runnin’

Royce Da 5’9″ – Wait A Minute (The Bar Exam 4 Album)

Wait, wait, wait a minute
We done already heard their best shit
Like a Soulja Boy home invader
The target’s been destroyed, boo ya
For a word from Vlad or Akademik
Leave a trail laying in your lane
I’m Cold Chillin’ on the record business
I’m just tryna motivate her, I’m just popping shit
Wait a goddamn minute
This the homicide related racketeer
Running around here since "The Message"
You’re choosing rappers you’re friends with
They on a lean, molly, Percocet trip
I sent a cannonball right at the cannon barrel
All I’m tryna hear today is trap and drill
Best to back the fuck up or get smacked the fuck up eighty million different ways
You popping molly with the actors
I’ve been going crazy on these records way before Flex
We already got the message
Wait, wait, wait a minute
I’m giving all my hoes an ultimatum, she my mascot
Y’all them Barnum Bailey boys
It’s feeling like iFunny with the memes
Wait a motherfucking minute
I fucked the baddest of the white bitches
I’m looking at your year end list
Wait a motherfucking minute
I’m tycooning through the pressure
Think I found what real success is
Through your wall, closet, through your damn apparel
I’m Compton menace on school bus
I’m most def with immigration
Been dropping gems since I grew up
Of the man upstairs, nigga, you’re next
The odd couple
Then I come and rip the stage down more like Trey Songz
Who be rapping what their friends did
Body bag after body bag
Face down on your computer keys sleep
If I say it’s fuck the world then the world’s getting fucked
Ladies on top of ladies
I know you heard I’m back in business
Wait a motherfucking minute
Topping, I ain’t tryna stop it ’till you standing on the doorstep
I watch you niggas go tool up
You a lame, you from Twitter fame
I bend her over, stick her on the expensive car
Then the world’s gon get the AIDS like some 1984 sex
I got to feel this void move, bruh
Through your grandma chair, through your granite counter
These nerds rapping for attention
But I ain’t saying I distribute Kane
I’m Murs rapping for the Guinness
This the traumatize your favorite rapper year
Wait, wait, wait a minute
Feel me, nigga, this is God hustle
I’m prime away from fucking mating with her
Let you rip the stage
You guys coming with your teams
Casanova with the rifle, fuckboy, don’t run
Category slaughter gang shit
Forty pounder full of death wish
Got the cash holding on line two, brink trucks noise on one
Around dough like Rajon
Eighty million different ways
I’m live from it with the streams
Closest you gon’ be to laying in your name
Wait, wait, wait a minute
I’m Mos Def with immigration
Give him back to him a little PHresher
Wait, wait, wait, wait a minute
Tyler fucking Creator with it
Wait, wait, wait a minute
It’s documented, boy, prove what?
Just so I could go and get exonerated
I might do a nigga beat for ’em
It’s all downhill from here like Jack and Jill
I’m Talib Kweli with the blackness
I’m going harder than Tha Carter X
She just getting ass shot
Toolie ratchets and extensions
Buying guns and getting beams
Wait one fucking minute
I flip the blade like "say something"
Money counter full of blessings
Wait a minute, nigga
This the bad half Shady vortex, armed in navy warfare
I’m birds flapping independent
When I’m finished with it
You had a chain, now it’s your nigga chain
I get a whole clip to all my haters
Phantom or the ‘Vette, Tammy Lahren, Charlamagne shit
Babies on top of babies
I’m typhooning through this weather
Wait a motherfucking minute
Prefer to slap you over engine
Wait, wait, wait a minute

Royce Da 5’9″ – Down These Roads (The Bar Exam 4 Album)

Down these roads where there’s not a free soul

That door that you opening up to friends and fans is likely revolving
Five minutes before your bride-to-be can pass the bouquet

These bitches these days like to take sneak pictures without asking you straight
Here we go
Then they love you
I’m knowin’ heaven’s wait
Then they hate you again
Come on down these roads
But you done signed it
Each time they owe and ask you to go and stashes
[Intro 2]
First they love you

Then they hate you
[Intro 1]
Then they hate you
Come on down these roads
I’m a culmination of all the reverend hates and the omen, but never Satan
‘Round and ’round we go
Where shit can get real lit
You livin’ inside the house fans built
‘Round and ’round we go
That’s if you not the loyal type
Then they love you
It’s crucial timin’ but you decided to
Everybody wanna be a beast
‘Round and ’round we go
I left Patrón alone with strong meditation but I’m convinced it’s in my chromosome ’cause my heart’s forever racing
‘Round and ’round we go
First they love you
Where by the time that you’ve developed a buzz
She might go fuck your boss bite
He’s hot, he’s cold

Over that crowd chant they will sin
Trash bitches and sit and wait for you to finish that cheap liquor so she can sleep with ya
Then they hate you
[Verse 2]
Where people get real slick real quick
Over that sound skin that deals in
The contract is in black and white
Your wifey tryna claw and fight for ya
They can put the trashman on the stand when I’m fighting the charges
You the one who ruined ’em, you shouldn’t have spoiled his ass then
And you might as well try to just make a movie out it
Quick highs, complete lows

Then they hate you
First they love you

[Verse 3]
It’s more like a presentation by a boy flies a Concord with reservations levitatin’
Everything in here is expensive, even cheap clothes
If you come on down these roads
‘Round and ’round we go
Then they love you again, and it’s
Then they hate you
I don’t care, I’ll still put your life in the garbage
And I’ma still be righteous regardless
For that infamous five minutes of fame
And no, this isn’t an encore
Come on down these roads
Then they hate you
I’m sure it’s time to do what beasts do
Niggas will sit and eat with ya
You might go fuck a whore and roar, you know I’m right
But you don’t wanna hear that one
But you will eat so in a sense, this is your meal ticket

Leechers and ass and feet-kissers
Then they hate you again
But naw, this ain’t back in the day
They don’t always like to see you evolving
You might’ve even been high and seen God do it
Rick James lied to you ’cause everybody and their mom do it
Even rechrome on every Saturday tints
Blowin’ up your phone at 4 at night
Shit, she might even end up leakin’ ’em to the internet
Niggas can fly quick as they wheels lift
Then they love you again, and it’s
Where shit can get real thick real quick
If the answer’s no, then you so irrational
Let’s go
Then they love you
[Verse 1]
Over that ball life, life flashes right before our eyes
Then they hate you again
I zone every day but I’m never dated
I chose this path so I suppose I have to deal with it

Makin’ millions ain’t even the guarantee
‘Round and ’round we go
They might decide to move you out and
Come on down these roads
Demonstratin’ longevity, as he’s never left the sky because he’s never been let down by his own revelation
That’s if you got the kind of boys who mad ’cause you don’t throw ’em cash
Like that check engine, that aura light
Come on down these roads

You realize that Coke ain’t even a helluva drug
Then they love you again, and it’s

Royce Da 5’9″ – Lets Take Them To War (The Bar Exam 4 Album)

I hope you know theres more fish that’s in the sea
(I got the moves)
Cause he retarded as fuck, on a boat with a treasure chest
(I been had the moves)
Keep the union in unison like the Soviet’s marching
My focus phenomenal
This remind me of LaLa Anthony ass in that New Edition movie
And nothing y’all can tell me about that bounce back
I had to still deal with that field sobriety
On that war page with that 24 gauge
My sober, righteous life only got a place for my lady
I’m stressed out because my moms be tired, pops be workin’
These lyrics is ordained by the Lord
Right off the cover of a magazine
I missed both of they funerals fuckin’ around with rappers
Last time took an ‘L’, now it’s time to bounce back
The weapon’s Iranian
Had the magazine with me at the club showing people like "Look at this and please try not to drool"
I don’t want no phone that receives a thousand calls
First of all, my favorite uncle died and favorite auntie died
But they can’t vouch for who the next sucker
Cool as a Jacuzzi everything in me is built in
We goin’ iron for iron like a trophy in golfing
My temperature so hot and cold I broke the thermometer

That’s why I’m still standing with everything I came with
My damie y’all Pootie Tang
This audio porn I’m giving with a bit of sense
[Part 2: "No Hook" Remix]
Used to clean up the bloody mess up in front of me
I bounce back like the fattest ass you can have attached to the fattest hips and anything after this shall be considered cataclysmic
Savage enigma
That’s exactly how my career went
Now I just ride with six vehicles with an ill tint
I fuck a Stacy thick ass for all the days she used to make me work
That makes perfectly good sense
My mind carries words
I’ve been had the moves (been had the moves)
Nigga I’m Damien
Had to do a double take at the dirty mop when he was finished
Straight right out the news
I’m from Detroit but if I send you to the store with a large bill for some little shit
I came right out to booze/boo’s
I have a religion to handle your rhythm like cannibalism
While I pour 40’s on corners for those we lost
A mind fuck if you will
That’s Armstrong on steroids, gated up no wing toes
I just go carnival
But when I double pump it I’m prime Chamberlain
I’m feeling like a straight sucker I faced the vibration

They can completely gooo up a magician’s sleeve
Trying to figure it out fast before my time expires
Nigga, I went to jail for the whole year
Shots drop from out of my cranium
I’m putting the autobiographical book out with the Book of Ryan
You couldn’t walk a mile in my patent leather Larry Bird black con weapons
I don’t wanna be apart of nothing with lies involved
It’s bad half and finally famous
I’m flyer than Tom Chambers on the first NBA Live
Trippin’ on opium just to cope with openin’ coffins
My nigga, better yet, I feel like the only man who can understand me is Sloth from The Goonies

I got I Decided on pre order, my lil homie just went gold
I don’t need to be around a thousand smiling broads
1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, here I count for you
With or without the internet my shit’ll still trend
My phones blowing up so much a nigga may end up like Cee-Lo
I had to holla at a tube
Five finger ring titanium
And I can just go down the road
(how can I lose?)
I can just line up the hollow tips inside the clip
I can’t figure out for the life of me how I can lose
I’m ready to go to war with whoever the fuck want it
She can give me a hall pass like Jason Sudeikis
Niggas tryin’ to cover it up and make her look old
Now my dingaling now dangling
Man, but it’s this one thing that always on my fucking mind and it haunts me constantly guys
But I’ve been had moves (I got the moves)
I got confused (Hella confused)
Y’all weigh your respect against your release date
After you already out then I’m dropping some more like you 2Pac and the commandos

You gon’ get these bars
I’m from Motown you know
And knock ’em down like some dominoes
Guarantee I’mma still steal the show
And Lord knows I done threw enough dollars on the floor in the past for moms to retire
808 Mafia
I’m cut from the kind of cloth that’ll never go outta style
How I can lose? (how can I lose?)
Like a fuckin’ experiment
Translation I’m bout to fool
Bitch, I was born by a river in a little tent
Emphatic charisma
The camera rollin’ and it’s time to flow
My mind is Lebron drainin’ em
Looked like Lil Yachty
[Part 1: "Moves" Remix]
I’m just an artist dog I don’t know how to be fake

I stole ya ho, we been kissing like we been sitting in a tree
(I been had the moves)
Every track on the record got a background message
I don’t want no problems dog
With they hands out
Actresses and models I used to only see on television
The devil sittin’ close enough to me to quote me an offer
Probably couldn’t survive without em all
Y’all niggas is Pomeranian
I’m doing this cause this what God want me to do
I hock a loogie on a reporter, Detroit is on Pete Rose

Y’all countin’ me out well I got you
I got out and I did the same thing you wack ass rappers do when y’all got your little show here
Guarantee I will kill the flow
I got Elijah Mohammed glow
I remember these bitches was just a dream
And that’s why in the fuck have I not at least tried to get in between Ashanti’s thighs
That’s why I be in the lab and my mind be wired
And Tracy slick ass but not before I fuck April first
I been had the moves
You’re totally awesome
Choppin’ and conceal bodies
So every day and every night my conscience cries
Double pumping from the three point NBA line
Watching my comments like papparazi watching Sasha Obama grow
“We don’t back down ever!”
For free
I got a lot on my mind that I gotta deal with
I got the moves since I got my studio (I got my studio)
I remember all I used to be around is dudes that used to try to just kill by me
Every time I fail I got up and bounced back
But maybe I can ask my lady for permission
I don’t know
Already in your top 5
Now they be climbin’ out of my television lookin’ at me to get the ring
Nah, I don’t borrow I’d rather discuss loaning
I just let my bitch in LA read, now that sounds epic
Countin’ packs like a statisician
And these ho’s in Detroit be trickin’ sooo much
My soul suffers from holy exhaustion
I got the dough these rappers claim they got at the house in my drawer in the envelope

I was broke as hell, now it’s time to bounce back

Royce Da 5’9″ – Power (The Bar Exam 4 Album)

You know when I solo stroll
White hood on the Phantom looking like it’s a Klan meeting
I’m blood to the Mexican bilingual who go by "The Gringo"
If perhaps there were beef between you and I
My pen is potentially grimace the penitentiary
Happy people just focus on what the hell they have
You know when I solo stroll
Fucking with power
Uh, nigga, they can score how they wanna score
The transcending a grand ‘legiance
That power
That power
I told ’em "I’m just sick, you can’t just go to the doc for this"
I’m the one writing a rhyme, I’m the one riding
So many lows, some of my highs were even goodbyes
You, you on the second tier, you definitely scared
Zangief hand gest’ as the man reaches
That power
I don’t do beef, I just make you wear the shit out of this two-piece
When I’m finished all they can say is I even the odds
Y’all niggas tempt me, but even y’all dudes grimace Mickey
Got so much dough I don’t pull out, I just leave it inside
Who’s living up under the gun
You put effort to put the "F" in "fear"
I’m the one rising, I’m the one writing the check
Anywhere with me I solo stroll

That power
Despite the fact that I’m strapped like I’m in a zombie apocalypse
I don’t always be on the charts but I stay on the boards
Me, I’m on the legend tier
Honda, not on your own Accord You gon’ get this fucking E.
You know when I solo stroll
I rap till I ran Venus or land in arenas, [?]

You niggas would actually have to sleep in disguise
I’m what you call a triple threat
My fam told me my flow remind ’em of ‘Pac or BIG

You know that fo’-fo’ goes
Y’all niggas Ren & Stimpy
That power
I don’t care if they find you at the game and you on the floor
Anywhere with me I solo stroll
I’m so hot I can inhale the hash
[Verse 2]

That fo’-fo’ goes

Unhappy people focus on all the shit that’s missing
That fo’-fo’ goes
Nothing come to sleep as the dreams and regret
That power
Who will punch your teeth in the street for bumping yo’ gums
You know that fo’-fo’ goes
Anywhere with me I solo stroll
The cruel, demented things that I’ve seen through imagery
Due to the ghoulish chemistry that the Devil has with the smell of cash
I’m a hustler, I hop in the ocean and sell a whale a splash
I can blow the grass until I’m actually impaling hell with ash
You move like you borrowed the first letter from the word "faggot"
I’m the splitting image of Dempsey
Pardon me for being too cool for this foolish industry
Uh, Max Julien coats and RAM beepers
And all that hating’ll age a nigga like that Japan region
The one with enough respect to make nigga untie ya
Uh, now let’s put this all in perspective here
Who will [?] out the whole scene if you owe and he come to collect
Everything about you new niggas is Mickey D’s
Guns and funds and cleaners hoping my cocaina will stretch
Come to a swing of something less than a queen with a catch
You know that fo’-fo’ goes
Whenever I see yo’ ass like Paloma Ford
[Verse 1]
That fo’-fo’ goes
My hat be leaned to the side like Adebisi from Oz
Why you out here gossipping? Labels tryna sign me

Royce Da 5’9″ – Stay Down (The Bar Exam 4 Album)

Out all night, I’m out all night
We turning out
Mama telling me it’s for my own good

[Verse 1]
Get money
Out all night, I’m out all night
Temptation, I think I’m gon’ (do it)
Temptation, I think I’m gon’ (do it)
Clap your hands, everybody
One on one with anyone who wanna go
Angel on my shoulder saying don’t do it, Devil said ("do it")
[Intro: various samples]
Laughing with the bitches looking at and laughing at the law
Streets calling out my name like attendance at the school
Royce 5’9"
Mama telling me it’s for my own good

Just clap, clap, clap your hands, everybody
I wanna tote guns and shoot dice
Out all night, I’m out all night
Justice League
Yesterday we played tackle in aisle, formation out today
Clap your hands, everybody
Mama telling me it’s for my own good
Out all night, I’m out all night
Young, black, apologetic, unpolished
Out all night, I’m out all night
Turning it out
Angel on my shoulder saying don’t do it, Devil said ("do it")
Angel on my shoulder saying don’t do it, Devil said ("do it")
Big booty bitches pushing strollers with the attitude

I wanna tote guns and shoot dice
(sample)] [Chorus: Royce Da 5’9" & The Notorious B.I.G.
We know why you got an attitude so we not asking you
Clap, clap, clap your hands, everybody
Nighty like pajama soldier life
I wanna tote guns and shoot dice
Out all night, I’m out all night
That’s a group riding past the pastor with the baggy suit
Temptation, I think I’m gon’ (do it)
I’m probably knocking at your door, y’all should let us in (do it!)
Crack crack then I, turning it out
Capping with my niggas with the mama jokes
Clap, clap, clap your hands, everybody
Muslims on the corner with the bag of fruit
Get money

As I am, cuz I am down to put this iron down and go
I’m at war with the cops, sitting in the trap at 17
That mean it’s a gat involved, went from packing basketballs
To packing all the pockets in my jacket full with packs of raw
Every broken home is separated by coalition
[Chorus: Royce Da 5’9" & The Notorious B.I.G. (sample)]
Drinking 7Up, I’m gon’ mature with the spot

Temptation, I think I’m gon’ (do it)
We just wanna hit it without hearing what the daddy do
The Mac-10 and back to Cube, the crack in the baggy, ooh
I’m probably knocking at your door, y’all should let us in (do it!)
Justice League
Alright, alright
Bet there’ll never be another one solid
Hut one, show you right, that don’t mean snap the ball
Oh lawdy, yo’ mama rode over a dollar and made four quarters
[Chorus: Royce Da 5’9" & The Notorious B.I.G. (sample)]
Temptation, I think I’m gon’ (do it)
I wanna tote guns and shoot dice
I’m probably knocking at your door, y’all should let us in (do it!)
I’m in the crack house and as I formulate
Turning it out

[Verse 2]
That kid, yeah, he bad, I could finish that for you
Temptation, I think I’m gon’ (do it)
Every fly car that ride by is motivation

Royce Da 5’9″ – Most Wanted (The Bar Exam 4 Album)

Listen, if I ain’t on your Mt. Rushmore of top spitters
Nigga, I am not with it, Ryan Rock different
I nut tunes, I spit corrupt moon
Lavar Ball doing battle for my boys
Every window tinted, every minute look like 8 PM
The thing that America is telling our children, and this is the sad part, that black folks if you don’t make me comfortable we will kill you Like, what are you supposed to do? Like you put your hands up, you tell ’em that you don’t have a gun.
My humble approach will boast for y’all
Don’t try to apprehend him
I’ma turn yo’ voyage to bon voyage to bone lawyers
This one’s for y’all niggas thinking you really big
I ain’t ’bout riches, I ain’t Scott Disick
Listen, chump, I spit it to pyramid, switch the front
I’m prolly ’bout to sin like I got a late DM

I’m largely blessed, I’m always dressed
Alien, rapping at a packed-out stadium
You would never know that I’m annoyed, that’s ’cause I’m a poet
Your floss just preparing y’all for death
Get it however you live
Nigga, my every alcoholic breath
Grab a nigga neck and snap it just to add it to my story
Put some dollars on your pen like an ATM
I’m not fresh though, I’m Godly, don’t call me less
My future wasn’t always just so Truman
I am G Money and Nino, I got the goose neck, now who’s next?
The spirit of Egyptian ankhs, call me Neph
Never lose bets when it’s time to shoot death
Tie you up and give you the busy sig
Rockshell, toe-top tens, watch the bus zoom by
Carry on, I tote Goyard
I’m so hip hop, I shit deluxe boombox
This is for censorship, pick a flow, switch the shit
America’s most wanted (Ice Cube is back on the set)
Is heavy like imagine tryna carry all this stress
If anybody or they friend try to flow against me
My hoe got more junk in the trunk than most tow yards
That appears in y’all bezel, I’ve risen to level
Playing hardball with them crackers like I’m Floyd
I really mean it when I tell you "get on my level", you dig?
Yes, the rhythm, the rebel
I’m broadcasting live on behalf of the glisten
To produce checks, I have my little metro booming
[Verse 1]
So God won’t bury y’all bearing y’all regrets
America’s most wanted, don’t try to apprehend him
So large, on my level with B.I.G
And if I don’t know y’all

Royce Da 5’9″ – Layers (The Bar Exam 4 Album)

All I got time to do is go back in time and pose with the Unabomber
Lightyears ahead, but I was caught up in the moment
First in science, first in technology, wealthiest country on Earth, most powerful country on Earth is twenty sixth in education. So you have all been taken and you don’t even realize that you have been dumbed to the point where you are like sheep
Sitting on that white horse, look at prince valiant
I philosophize with wise words from learned lessons
Lie, cheat and steal, I had it mastered by my teens
I philosophize for them Pitchfork scholars
Started hands on, a nigga still pulling strings
Drop jewels so these falcons like the Maltese
[Interlude 2]
Hold up, hurdles in life, I hop in a Turbo and roll around ’em
Labeled a mastermind, I positioned every move
Counting this fast money and fucking my bitches slow
When drama comin’, I’m all for it
Underground locomotive man
I got your baby momma down on all fours
Forty million there, I dare you tell me what I’m not
Them niggas wanna see me runnin’, they know I won’t
So suspicious of the cars, tuitions for the schools
Ain’t got no time for you to try on no Manolo Blahniks
[Verse 1: Pusha T]
I’m Doug E. Fresh in the flesh, I beat box
[Verse 3: Rick Ross]

Yeah, God hearin’, but I’m gone fishin’
[Verse 2: Royce Da 5’9"]
If it ain’t about the money please let this be your last question
Hotel suites, straight selling nigga’s dreams
Kim said it, yup, BIG wrote it
I make the yay invisible in like a day or two
I boo-boo-du-du between the sheets to seek the G-Spot
Smooth operation, but the money came in knots
Just so I can go back in time a second time to photobomb it
With a ski mask, automatic or revolver
That’s how the players do, my nigga, there’s layers to it
They say misery loves company, no, I don’t
Woo, all black like the omen
Was a water boy, but balling always in my genes

And I ain’t talkin’ ’bout wearing clothing brands
Motel 6 as I let the beeper ring
Tug of war and my mind’s like a clash of the titans
Putting on a global show that no promoter can
Birds in the trunk so these keys, now they homin’
Look at you, no pleasure in creative thinking, because you don’t think creatively anymore. The real joy of being a human being is to be able to use your mind in the manner that the Almighty God has designed the human mind to do
I’m saying Lord Jesus while the Lord’s most gorgeous creatures take turns blessing me
Burner on my waist, yet I’m saying stop the violence
I seen a kilo, I swear it became a part of me
You players can jump if you want, but you half-stepping like Paul George
Feds on the roof of the spreads in the juice
God fearin’, but I’m Guy Fisher
[Interlude 1]

I’m in bed with three major labels
I’m in bed with three naked ladies holding hands
I live by a code of demonic, Illuminati, Obama, Hovanomics
Paranoid of poverty, hustle was the philosophy
In my world mistakes turns to blessings
Moment of clarity, moment of silence
Your power and authority is ruled over by another and your sphere of freedom of activity is governed by the wishes of somebody else A slave is one whose power and authority is ruled over by another and whose sphere of freedom is limited according to the wishes of a master.
So I’m feeling like a Greek God when I quote it
The hate turned to destiny
Dad shakes his head cause the worst waste his talents
Letters and numbers on the Coupe like it’s Roman
Shots fired, now the deposition from the crew
I’m an artist, drug dealer, foreign car keys

Devil on my shoulder and the pitchfork follows
Poking at my problems, I know how to solve ’em

Thoughts contrast so it’s layers to my writin’
I own fifty homes and wanna get fifty more
Season ticket holder, nigga sitting with the team

Royce Da 5’9″ – Wisdom (The Bar Exam 4 Album)

First place that it all went down was Fraggle Rock, now it’s the gavel drop
Both of us could draw the first shot, it be like the tie break
At my house and my new V right out in my driveway, huh
You hate me that’s crazy I hate to tell you we at the top
Okay, you got it, great go for a K
No need for money I got tunnel vision
[Verse 1]
Can’t be out here just giving all this wisdom
Won’t feel a thing we gon’ make this shit quick and painless
When we pass, our possessions ain’t gon’ reach the masses
Don’t you know the rap game is based on sacrilege
If niggas don’t seem to believe my mission
Man, I’m being petty
If niggas don’t seem to believe my mission
Hmm, do you know what a classic is?
That’s impressive Do you have anything to say?
Up under that blue dress, that’s like my death wish
That’s when I got that 20/20 vision
Before I had them hammer handles I had them handles
Though this ain’t no movie I got Jason V
I ain’t one of them you just could mess with, the Devil naked
Can’t see myself sitting inside no prison

Lifestyle of the rich and gainless
That’s cool, but I choose to not leave the booth till I see pain on the interface
All I see is me keep on getting richer
But that won’t stop her from doming tonight’s Mayor on Elm Street
Remember I’m the best [?] vocabulary in [?]
I got Michael Myers right on my waist
Nowadays, I stay sharp as daggers while I’m stabbing the drop
Do you know the name of the place where your pastor is?
Rape her, contract an infection, if you scary
I like straight skeezers who like Dave East, PNB Rock, and Wale
If niggas don’t seem to believe my mission
Do I listen to you at dinner and playback at breakfast?
Fuck yo’ Audemar, your Patek Philippe, and your glasses
If niggas ain’t gonna innovate then the game gon’ renovate
I don’t stress, I’m rich, I’m Ashy Larry in the flesh, bitch
To make a record takes more than just to stay black and reckless
How you be with stars and how your gun bust
Can’t be out here giving ’em all my wisdom
That’s when I got that 20/20 vision
I ain’t heard a decent bar in months, bruh
Today’s lesson: we living in great rap depression

Ask my BMW dealer, we like them high rate
Take you back to the essence, obituaries are actual confessions
Can’t be out here giving ’em all my wisdom
I hate your cigarettes, I hate the smell of Black and Milds
Don’t you know that war’s an ancient acronym that stands for "We Ain’t Ready"?
I’m here to rain on all you deer, young bucks, high and drunk fucks
If niggas don’t seem to believe my mission
Them thangs on the interstate
Young niggas better stay the fuck from out of my way
No need for money I got tunnel vision
All I see is me keep on getting richer
Can’t see myself sitting inside no prison
Right now you standing in the same place every day with a different payment
I’m tired of hearing ’bout your stinking cars and all your dumb trucks
Existing in rented space
And while I’m combing the town I could travel blocks
I call it Tavis Smiley, that’s ’cause it’s black and small
I keep a Mini Cooper that always follows behind me
You haters busters, you Dave & Buster’s, I’m David Justice
Can’t be out here just giving all this wisdom
Coulda been in the NBA ‘stead of rapping had I had them hops
Translation: I’m making Halle Berry my next pitch
9-8, I got stung by a dragonfly, draggin’ a mop

Royce Da 5’9″ – Magnolia (The Bar Exam 4 Album)

Every rapper claims that he never stood for disrespect
Fuck radio, I’m already floating on the air
I never ran from a soul, but I got promoters booking
Maybe I’m crazy like Macy Gray, baby, I’m blessed
Who hasn’t had a hat he can hang on regret
Who better? I can sell a shovel to the Devil
Like the quarter’s is under your sofa cushion
Feeling like God only kicked Moses on the snare
‘Cause I’m wavy, my flow Avion wet
Y’all the fakes, these are the breaks, y’all the cast of CB4
Who has a rather insane intellect
Look, fag, this BE4, I don’t have no E-G-O
When I stepped on the pedal to pipes turned to Bubba Sparxxx
Fuck these labels, fuck you label hoes focused on despair
I would rather ride a train to success
The mayor slipped and fell through the cracks
I’m so amazing, I’m Jay Z, I’m Treach
Then introduced my son to Teyana Taylor at Rucker Park
I ain’t here to be famous in debt, do my thing to me dead
I keep a hand full of something to fold
You don’t want no static eh, y’all should have your TV low
Allah on the flyer and this bitch emoting on a prayer
Rappers kind of rapping too tame to collect
When I bought my white Corvette it touched my mother’s heart
He got disrespected in the hood and he just set
Under the hood it sound like horses hoofing
Called Delano up, turned the rally stripes to fucking art
Man, I remember these hoes used to overlook me
[Verse 1]
Porsche pushing, motor whoofing
I could sell a Jewish fella suit to a shrewd tailor
Now they come to my shows and throw their panties on stage
These fans are programmed to change and forget
I’m just here to tell you the facts
Or they just say "fuck it’ and throw the pussy
Am I an underground artist? No, I’m completely low
Uncla Murda this and Suge is more healthy for the genre
Then turn around and I can sell the scoop to a newsletter
I’m so low I could sell this booth as my new cellar
In the 80s, but more 94′ Shady I guess
That’s plain than ride a dragonfly through a flame to impress
I’m feeling like KRS in the flesh
The hoes praising me like maybe I’m next
We taking the feeling back from the wealthy, rich and shining
In this white man’s world I’m just a black who ain’t in the red
Maybe I’m Red, maybe I’m Meth, maybe I’m less

Royce Da 5’9″ – Still Waiting (feat. Nick Grant & Elzhi) (The Bar Exam 4 Album)

I’m still waiting on you
Jigga was a hustler who later wrote about it on the intro
Shooters with banana clips, dumping ’em
I’m still waiting on you
I guess the rap game’s ’bout who flex the most
I’m still waiting on you
The quickest way to have your pimping in doubt
Just like that, that, that, that
Never was underrated, nigga, I’m unheard of
Pay no mind, it’s no biggy, but shit I’m warning ya
As I watch my demons ménage screaming "I’m alive"
‘stead of Jamaica in the spot on my third massage
And I swear if you tryna play the don
And I ain’t got a lock when I’m sticking the door key in
God’s favorite, a public enemy, love my women in all flavors

I blow the roof off and make all you chicks suck my doggy dick
Or I can just rub you out like two crickets’ knees
Like if niggas ain’t leveling, hiring, UPSes
Now of you who got the back of Now, who the fuck want it?
Fuck around and clash with some niggas you idolized
I’m still waiting on you niggas to inspire me
It’s apparent, I slaughter you and your guardian
And I could give you food for thought before fricassee’s
Uh, y’all lonely savage on the mollies acting like your life is violent
Try to violate me, my ETA is a major scene

This shit I write it make you ball up your fist to fight and
I got the scolio Who the fuck want it, bro?
Cause I got this in the bag like apartment 4B when
Screaming with my head in her box, it ain’t a Vogue pose
If I made it, we all made it
Tap a super model, she [?] in morse codes
Lately, I’ve been feeling like retiring, UBSing
Catching ’em slipping and peel ’em up at the family function and
I don’t know how much I’ll loan ya, I’m not OVO
The outcome of playing big bank to little bank with me
Blood rushing like when I rush in, it’s hugging a Kalashnikov
But I’m just me, I never claim to be the toughest
Yes, I’m
If not, fuck it, I made enough, it’s cool with me though
And it will be the day, it will be the GTA "wasted" screen
Who love the top dog and how he flick his fleas

The best, supposed to make you sick to your stomach till you possess an ulcer
Hostile infects aside, it’s the chainsaw massacre
You know my reputation, who in yo’ camp wanna step to Jason?
I’m still waiting on you, you, you
So you shouldn’t ignore me then, I can trade lines with Scorpion
Busting, cousin used to tease me, call me crack baby
I’m a product of Funkadelic and Parliament
‘Pac reincarnated, spitting on cam, fuck ’em
Or pretend I’m not Kevorkian, just his dorky twin
Taking it back just like that
To In My Lifetime, and you’s a customer
Give me the spotlight, you can keep the interrogation
Living the life that’s in need of a narration
Woah, for those who try to live the rough life
Bottom line, I’m a man with a lot of pride
Nigga, the only thing could kill a legend is a double dish
Ride on ’em, me and Nickel Nine on-a ya
How you do these dishes? I’m truly vicious
I’ll punch a nigga to Timbuktu
You know I snuck the thing in this bitch just like a foreigner
I just sign on the dotted line
Pistol through your clothes, slugs ripping through your cashmere
All these funny niggas with cloudy jewelry at these award shows
Texas side in a Lexus fried doing donuts
Yes, I’m
I know you wish my life sucked and Death blew me kisses
I take a pull from the Romeo y Julieta
I’m still waiting on you
Is to let the hibachi chef throw a shrimp in yo’ mouth
I’m still waiting on you, you, you
I’m challenging y’all niggas to move the needle
From some high rollers who are thick as thieves
Tell ’em nothing changed, still dope, baby
Will prolly be a hundred thousand in ten bucks too
A sick disease that cut into you like six degrees of separation
You’ll find it’s more lines in this rhyme than a brick of ki’s
I got a drum, I’ll front a nigga ten bucks too
As if I grabbed the coffee with it for breakfast
Past life itchin’ just to come out
[Verse 3: ElZhi]
I’m still waiting on you
I give you niggas a Mardi Gras full of martyrs to party with
That’s a flag like it’s crips in the house, fag like a dick in the spout
And button him looking like a skeleton wearing a Cardigan
It’s for rappers who look like they get sodomized, you outta time
I’m still waiting on you
At the sheriff station
Think before you dive in murky waters with a megalodon
They rather see me chatching murder charges
I could tell by your dress code you extra hoe

That any crime unit would be quick to seize
Y’all niggas be wanting too much dough, slow your roll
Lately, I ain’t for the monkey shit
I’m poisonous pesticide, extra wide nostrils
Ain’t gotta tell fake dope stories for you to love ’em
But I’m extra closer to the Testarossa
Taking it back just like that
From the ghetto, I’m traumatized, where I lie confined
Tell the coroners "come", baby, there’s been a murder
Most exciting thing y’all can do is jump out the closet yelling "Surprise!"
Tell me who I’m up against, I run this shit
Was never rich, but dropping gems to poor souls
Yes, I’m
All of y’all just be telling them lies
[Verse 1: Royce Da 5’9"]
Take off on a nigga, make him think he missed a flight
And at the top of the food chain, I could hump the waitress and
Yes, I’m
So tell your muscle I make a doctor open him up
Leave us left for the beef, resting in peace, you tough, right?
You outta line like you ain’t got a lotta drive
The way I ball gon’ make a nigga corner ya

[Verse 2: Nick Grant]
Yes, I’m
I’m catapulting bodies, catching ’em like a virus
Life is a freak, I put faith is this lady mama lie
Give a nigga a buck 50 like I’m the cashier
Not accustomed to how I’m on the cusp of greatness
Yes, I’m
Got my mama’s eyes

Royce Da 5’9″ – Twilight Zone (The Bar Exam 4 Album)

Until I’m there and I’m the only one
You might be killed because you wearing blue and he wore red
[Verse 3]
You can count on me to do it
But no one was out there, this how
Load up the choppers to go at the genre

I just looked you in your eyes, with the nine in your mouth
We ride on our enemy, but naw, I ain’t shot you

What is competition
I’ll murder every MC on your list
Until I’m there and I’m the only one
Uh, for yo’ hoe shit, these boys bled
What is competition
You will get off ’cause we don’t offer tea
You will get turned to Kermit lunch
Get out my ear with shit that’s not my biz, chump
Cause they just imitations, shit, this how the truth sound

I hope you don’t think that my focus shifted with my sober shit
What is competition
Joe, Joell, 5’9" and Crook, hide your rhyming book
Look out the window like brother Malcolm
You can count on me to do it
I’m in the twilight zone to some
I’m in the twilight zone to some
You give your man that look, that’s it, y’all newlywed
I’m truly mesmerized by all your desperate lies and uzi threats
These niggas sound like clones
We been around a long time, that’s how much time it took
Hip hop, they got they own police behind these stories, yeah
I’m in the twilight zone
I’m in the twilight zone
I guess I never know
These niggas sound like clones
Until I’m there and I’m the only one
I’ll murder every MC on your list

I’m in the twilight zone to some
You a artist them niggas died for you so now you ain’t got too
Your wifey sleeping on me? Cool, I seen that she needs a beauty rest
When them credits roll, your label gon’ tell me you got the juice now
I’m in the twilight zone
The thug anomaly hugging on nines and be loving your mama not
I’ll murder every MC on your list
And you ain’t worth the money my attorney wants
You can count on me to do it
What is competition
I was supposed to defeat these odds early
I guess I never know

I’m just a bird who gets the worm and when it comes to flipping words

Until I’m there and I’m the only one
Never, everybody knows us, the murderous
I guess I never know

These niggas sound like clones
I’m in the twilight zone to some
Only problem is you niggas clowns and when I’m ’round you I stick out like Sherman Klump
These niggas sound like clones
They opened doors for you to hide behind decoys, feds
Hitchhike and wearing Pee Wee Herman thumb
I’m in the twilight zone
But to the young and broke I appear old and rich
I guess I never know
And I’m your host for this evening, Rod Serling
[Verse 1]
I’ll murder every MC on your list
I’m in the twilight zone
I’m sicker with the terms than a determined Trump
I’m in the twilight zone
[Verse 2]
I’m here for earning till the sermon’s done
I’m in the twilight zone
I’d prolly be dead if I never elevated my skill
And if I could move mountains why would I care how to climb it, look
The crew nice, your crew got ice, my crew ISIS, my crew beheads
Them Slaughterhouse conglomerates, them jugger[?]nauts
I give my man that look, that’s it, he gon’ see to it that you be dead
Cause niggas been murdered over hip hop, B.I.G., ‘Pac
I invaded they projects in the elevator with steel

I’m still the coldest with the flow, I still be holding loaded clips
I just be wearing clothes that fit, financially I’m comfortable
You can count on me to do it
When drama pop we never on the opposite side of a homicide
My advice is hang around me, then you might be learning some
I’m in the twilight zone