Lyrics Dinner Time - Royce 5'9, Busta Rhymes

Dinner Time

Ayo, Royce Da 5'9″
Why you wan' share your food with these niggas?
We don’t share food in the recession
Bite these niggas like you bite the microphone
Living legend inside of a Smith & Wesson sliding out of the barrel
I’m fire, don’t try me 'cause I am hot
Police cars with they sirens come by when I’m rhyming
Saying they got a call that somebody 'round here done fired shots
MAC-11's in order, the flow is like water
Each quote’s a quarter of blow, the chorus is followed by the dot
Goons, goblins and creatures and monsters’ll bounce ya
And beat ya and stomp ya and eat ya
Don’t get swallowed by the block
I pay a shrink every week to basically tell me
«Lay here and speak to me» just to say how psychotic I am not
I’m too fly with the viral and physical copies
Niggas sloppy, look up what you under, I’m what you tryna top
I’m scared and compared to no man
I’m like the big hand on Big Ben
I get in and I’m hitting my numbers 'round the clock
I’m 'bout to give it back to my nigga Bus-a-Bus
And have a seat, it’s convenient I’m already copping a squat
Nowadays when niggas walk around
They start to look like hamburgers and frankfurters
Ayo, Royce Da 5'9″, feed on these mothafuckas, homie, come on
Take him, gut him and take out his organs and smorgasbord him
The more important he is I’m toe-tagging his beat
Turn him to chicken chowder, dip him in some sniffing powder
Season him with gasoline and throw his ass in the grease
Mention my name in a record, I’ma come get you lyrically
Individually, I’ma take it back to the streets
Cannibalistic mentality, rappers hating
Decapitate him, rap 'bout what I naturally happen to be
Flow is superb and you heard us forget it, two verses
Two murders acquitted, personally it’s a wrap, capiche?
Fingers snapping and tapping they feet
Clapping what happened the street
'Bout to happily bring it back to the D
Niggas claiming harder that all of this time
Niggas believe him until I see him and then slap him and see
I ain’t having it, havoc is average to me
War’s normal, only thing I’m having is having a feast
Royce Da 5'9″, you my dog and I’m your dog
Being that I already sicced you on these mothafuckas
It’s your turn to sic me on they ass, let’s go
Every time that I marry the rhyme and the beat
I go hairy and grind in the street, then I’m fucking up everybody
Pulverizing shit like we gorillas and peeling your skin
Like we banana peelers, it’s hazardous if you copy
Don’t you know that I’m one of the coldest, courageous
The boldest contagious, ain’t no one can phase this thing that I do
Well, you know since I report the latest
That niggas can’t fuck with me
'Cause I’m the greatest, my shit is sick like the flu
You see I’m animalistic, the cataclysmic events
That’ll happen whenever I grab the mic and talk
Indeed I’m back and specifically
That I’m hickory-dickory-dock of this rizzy
The diddy bop in my walk
Now I’m the messenger to set the temperature, nigga
Whenever the heat will be needed to hot the block up, I’m saying
I got the Dillinger, Harry Kissinger with the ratchet
The fact is, I’m back with the clack and the click, see I ain’t playing
Why, oh why, oh why?
Royce Da 5'9″, please tell me why
Why the fuck these niggas gon' let us get together and do this shit to 'em?
It’s so fucking unfair, shit is so unfair