| Product of the dope game
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| Mama wanted no pain, Papa wanted cocaine
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| Papa smokin' pot over the pot, over the stove flame
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| Dollar short from acquirin' no change
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| Started out with no shame, to ridin' 'round in Mulsanne
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| Tolerance high, feel no pain
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| Cotton mouth with thots who got the code names
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| I remember nodding' out, too high, just watchin' Soul Train
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| Now I’m yachtin' out the boat brain
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| Hunnid thousand dollar gold chain
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| Wife done got too pricey for a Cadillac
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| Too icy to be fightin', too godly for a battle rap
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| Too nice to be in cyphers, too deep for moderation
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| Too free for exoneration and seekin' validation
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| Young, black, receivin' salutations
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| Product of the dope game
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| Mama wanted no pain, Papa wanted cocaine
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| Papa smokin' pot over the pot, over the stove flame
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| Flyer than the sky, I am the pilot of the soul plane
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| Writer of the 'pyro, I was a writer way before fame
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| All y’all dudes is cyber, I come from the bottom right by the soil where the
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| rose came
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| I’m too private to try to expose lames
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| And I’m too violent to be ridin' with those thangs
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| I’m too shady to be neutral, these artists try to divide us
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| If I go Kendrick Lamar, the world gon' watch the «Control» change
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| I’m way too vicious to ask for my respect
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| I’m way too Michelin for the dissin', man, listen
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| Even mindin' my business I deal with entire sets
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| Always on time to collect, like the IRS
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| Product of the dope game
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| Nostril full of cocaine
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| Violence over dyin' over war games
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| Die here and get choked, lames
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| Die here in the choke chains
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| Advise you in the full, mane, Siamese, your whole frame
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| How can I be washed? |
| I’m havin' shooter, rifle thoughts
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| Suicidal thoughts, I should be writin' these rhymes in the diary of Cobain
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| Beat him 'til his Bible lost
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| Beat him 'til he dies and then beat his body 'til we revive 'em and then his
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| pulse came
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| Where I come from, I tell the jokes and you the joke
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| Where I come from, I sell the dope, you do the dope
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| My brethren, I’m not a legend, I’m not a vet
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| Do not address me as second, I’m the best
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| You niggas always sleepin', I’d rather stay woke
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| They say you are what you eat, but I never ate goat
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| I went from straight poor to shoppin' malls
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| And Wraiths blowin' gray smoke
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| Dialed in like conference calls
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| Strapped up like Waco
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| Playin' Hov, Friend or Foe
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| Lost friends like Ross and Rachel
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| In the road, big bro was a criminal
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| Give you L’s, gimme O’s
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| The only thing that look good on paper to me is Benji’s, ho
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| My sobriety’s been more faithful to me than these hoes
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| Never compromisin' my intellect for the Internet
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| Dissin' these goals in the Rolls
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| How the fuck is Nickel Nine a yes-man?
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| When 24/7, I stay in the know
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| 'Fore I hold a grudge, I take a flight to Paris
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| 'Fore I spill blood, I drink a pint of theirs
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| I don’t age |
Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song I Don't Age , by - Royce 5'9. Song from the album The Allegory, in the genre Рэп и хип-хоп