Lyrics Testing Me - Page Kennedy, Royce 5'9, King Los

Testing Me

Fly like I was born where we hard pressed
Press hard, but we’re all blessed
Progress through the odd stress
Small steps toward a large quest
God’s breath through my jaws blessed
My arms stretched to the stars
Mars ain’t a large step
My palms sweat
My heart wept
My art’s left
My thoughts catch bizarre messages
God text
Beyond flex
It’s Complex
Let’s Vibe out
I watch my ex excel at being a loud mouth
We could do this shit smooth, people
Time out
Or when you effin' see me that’s a round house
Really.
who let these clowns out?
You the type of nigga that we turned out
Bitch I’ve been the best thing you just found out
According to my weed I’m a loud mouth
I pull up in some shit you had to sound out
Give a nigga an inch, he try to take a mile
Test me if you want, I’mma take yo' ass out
You ain’t really trying to see what that life 'bout
I try to be cool but these fools just keep
Testing me
They’re testing me
They’re just, testing me
Keep testing me (ey!)
Testing me
They testing me (ey!)
Testing me, just believe me that I’ma just shoot
Better duck my nigga
That ain’t no hard hat
That’s a snapback
Better duck
Cartier, Petron
Partyin' far away from home
I’m living the movie that’s on repeat
Call me a modern day Stallone
Alone at peace
I swear to Christ if God didn’t make these zones
When I’m on these beats
When I vibe and make these songs
That, I can die when I’m gone to sleep
I bring the threat to your porch step
Had death hangin' at your door like a hornet wreath
If we don’t respect you
We expect you to be, on your knees
'Less you wanna meet
Put your testicles on the street
We don’t catch you
We just gonna just leave
What’s left of your nephew, on your niece
Phony niggas with death wish with devils of their own
Their own home in alleyways
Their own shovels, dig their own shallow graves
The hitman came down the chimney like Santa
Now their whole family’s slayed
Man, it’s crazy
My homie’s got chrome fetishes
Anyone on and shining
We coming to collect it like Con Edison
Stone as tyrants
Trauma sirens
All this violence around til' karma calms it down to silence
Give a nigga an inch, he try to take a mile
Test me if you want, I’mma take yo' ass out
You ain’t really trying to see what that life 'bout
I try to be cool but these fools just keep
Testing me
They’re testing me
They’re just, testing me
Keep testing me (ey!)
Testing me
They testing me (ey!)
Testing me, just believe me that I’ma just shoot
(Too, too, too, too, too, too)
(Too, too, too, too, too, too)
(Too, too, too, too, too, too)
Not for nothing but
Keeping up with the Kardashians will get your ass shot
See the correlation between Kardashian and ass shot?
There’s no correlation between me robbing the stash spot
That’s a dick move when I split dude
I hide the body like a mascot
I’m seriously joking, but have you ever heard of the Dream Team?
King Los, Royce da 5'9″, Idi Amin
Idiot I mean
Page «PK» Kennedy
You ever been burned to the tenth degree?
Then mention me
And I’ma give you that hot fire that’s super hot
Like you be sipping soup a lot
Soon as you scoop it out the pot
That hot fire like Curry when they let him shoot a lot
Have you trade bodies with 2Pac, and you get shot
I’m the perfect storm mixed with the blood of Jason Bourne
Solution, and that’s what I call a flawless execution
The Drive by shooting like Klay Thompson was from Compton
I won’t lie by doing nothing if you wanna' be starting something
I wanna bring it back and slow it down, but that be too conceited
Food for thought, they feeding you this bullshit and you eat it
When I shove it down yo' throat
So you know that’s all that she wrote
Shit don’t float around on this boat
Pull this heat from out of this coat
Then I’m firing off on that ass every day for about a week or two
Think it’s over 'til I pop up again like Pikachu
And take a peek at you soon as you reach I leap at you
Then do what the reaper do
Peep your heart, take a piece of you
And right before I let release of you
I’ll leave a hole big enough in your chest to spin a pizza through
Yeah!
Give me my props!
Viola Davis, teach you how to get away with murder like the cops
We goin' ride around in this truck, and we really don’t give a fuck
Unless your ironing a four leaf clover, nigga don’t press your luck
Haha!
I’m quite regal, I fight Diesel, your life Smeagol
They mad leaving these pussies tight, I’m like Kegels
If Trump wins, I’m Russian, out of the country
Packing lunch-meat, headed to Turkey, won’t be hungry
Had a cow in India, slaughtered the beast
A chick from the Czech said it was poppin' in Greece
Popping in grease?
Fish frys, French Fries
Trying to get the cops to release ten guys, stop the police
From killing us and fill us with villainous bullets that drill in us