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(Verse 1)
Royce on the come up- the mic is my weapon
they messed around to reunite the master w/ the nunchuck
I level the playin field- bricks w/ the 1 up
starpower for me- the flower's for my mother
and the shrooms for the payin customers- give em love
I'm the outlet w/ the work up in my pocket from plugs
I hustle like a mug just to keep on the lights, water
but they hatin on the buzz like a fly swatter
Visualize em blow, C-4 to the eye sockets
Royce is a shoveler of shit- so why talk it?
Sleepin on my show- I'm being booked- they Tom Sawyers
Yo boy count the chips- tell them chickens to bon voyage
iridescent shine so I'm keepin the locs w/ me
Incandescent mind- I read the bible and smoke PHILLiesss
I get up on the mic and bare the naked in lyrics
as i stress about the wages that they take from a nigga
I'm collectin reparations from the gov chillin it
as we speak, on the creep so come and fuck w/ yo villian
I take the sky for ransom as I aim at the moon w/ it
shake my change cup on the strip, and whistle tunes w/ it
pixalated blood comes w/ the game,they Boon w/ it
I flame from the first person range, so doom w/ it
Kirby's wanna suck em- cuz he about a balla!
my whole crew eatin cuz WE GOT A DOLLA!
(Verse 2)
Roll up the paper and rush that- the infant of the block
my hubcaps crawl like rugrats-
We grubbin w/ the gluttony- paper in tall stacks
no one could fuck w/ me- man, these haters should fall back
I rode street ponies to the crib- he off that
guess I'm what it is till they bring New York back
Royce through cuffin on a bitch- you lock that
you dick talk defensive pimpin- you cockblock that
I learn my protegez bout the games these hoes play
White woman lips can turn a nigga to O J
black girl mouth could turn a nigga to Ike Turner
Custom made kicks for the whip w/ the bright burners
Fuckin w/ a trick expectin money to bounce outcha
when i spit the gift- the ears lift like Alfalfa
Money rainin here other- niggas need drought counslers
Mad potent shit- you can get bout an ounce out us
Slicker than a story tellin Rick- I got one
Make these hoes feel it like they rode my shotgun
While its loaded-yo boy fuck around and exploded on the scene
minish cap with some evisu jeans
The safety inspectors say that he too clean
w/ his lyricism- but the pandemic still killin niggas
Leave execs at the round table tell they ass holla
While I'm wavin w/ the pomade- WE GOT A DOLLA!
(Verse 1)
Royce on the come up- the mic is my weapon
they messed around to reunite the master w/ the nunchuck
I level the playin field- bricks w/ the 1 up
starpower for me- the flower's for my mother
and the shrooms for the payin customers- give em love
I'm the outlet w/ the work up in my pocket from plugs
I hustle like a mug just to keep on the lights, water
but they hatin on the buzz like a fly swatter
Visualize em blow, C-4 to the eye sockets
Royce is a shoveler of shit- so why talk it?
Sleepin on my show- I'm being booked- they Tom Sawyers
Yo boy count the chips- tell them chickens to bon voyage
iridescent shine so I'm keepin the locs w/ me
Incandescent mind- I read the bible and smoke PHILLiesss
I get up on the mic and bare the naked in lyrics
as i stress about the wages that they take from a nigga
I'm collectin reparations from the gov chillin it
as we speak, on the creep so come and fuck w/ yo villian
I take the sky for ransom as I aim at the moon w/ it
shake my change cup on the strip, and whistle tunes w/ it
pixalated blood comes w/ the game,they Boon w/ it
I flame from the first person range, so doom w/ it
Kirby's wanna suck em- cuz he about a balla!
my whole crew eatin cuz WE GOT A DOLLA!
(Verse 2)
Roll up the paper and rush that- the infant of the block
my hubcaps crawl like rugrats-
We grubbin w/ the gluttony- paper in tall stacks
no one could fuck w/ me- man, these haters should fall back
I rode street ponies to the crib- he off that
guess I'm what it is till they bring New York back
Royce through cuffin on a bitch- you lock that
you dick talk defensive pimpin- you cockblock that
I learn my protegez bout the games these hoes play
White woman lips can turn a nigga to O J
black girl mouth could turn a nigga to Ike Turner
Custom made kicks for the whip w/ the bright burners
Fuckin w/ a trick expectin money to bounce outcha
when i spit the gift- the ears lift like Alfalfa
Money rainin here other- niggas need drought counslers
Mad potent shit- you can get bout an ounce out us
Slicker than a story tellin Rick- I got one
Make these hoes feel it like they rode my shotgun
While its loaded-yo boy fuck around and exploded on the scene
minish cap with some evisu jeans
The safety inspectors say that he too clean
w/ his lyricism- but the pandemic still killin niggas
Leave execs at the round table tell they ass holla
While I'm wavin w/ the pomade- WE GOT A DOLLA!
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