| Uhh, yeah
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| Royce 5−9, my nigga Bow Tie
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| My nigga Cee, Six July
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| Gangsta, what, gangsta, what, uhh
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| Gangsta, niggas is gangsta
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| Yo, I’m out here all day
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| From when you hear the sounds of the car skiddin
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| Then start dickin, gangsta from start to the finish
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| Whassup — never socialable, nigga we too disposable
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| If I get close to you it’s probably to dispose of you quicker
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| Go 'head, try somethin — live or die by these numbers
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| I’d rather live paralyzed than to die runnin, you feel it
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| Stay out his path, he’s chaotic and mad
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| Pull a K out and blast, and treat every day like his last
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| I’m just a street nigga rhymin some words
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| Dabble in the finest of furs, cowboy minus the spurs and saddle
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| Prefer for battle; |
| most deserved
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| In highest level in cowboy status is not from herdin cattle
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| One strange guy, I’m — nuttin like you mayn
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| Guns all look the same to the un-trained eye
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| Easy to find, tell me how a gorilla can hide
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| The realest nigga breathin, ain’t no nigga realer alive
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| Y’all niggas in trouble (in trouble)
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| Y’all niggas in trouble (in trouble)
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| Y’all niggas in trouble (in trouble)
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| Y’all niggas in trouble, you don’t want this
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| It’s the black Elmer Fudd, fuck a mansion and a yacht
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| I got a project buildin, weed runnin on the block (c'mon)
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| A sweet tooth for chronic, shit got me speakin in ebonics
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| Killer cracker, respect me for my talent
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| Sniff 'em out like a bloodhound
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| Like they bag mills out in Vegas on the Greyhound
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| I never plead guilty, come to court filthy
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| Lawyer drunk off Henny, parole violators with me
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| And still I walk cause it’s real
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| Take they ass to trial then they lose a quarter mil', now that’s a deal
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| Filthy rich at his best
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| Love hell I write, with a 7 on my chest
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| I come, real street knowledge, boulevard trade school
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| Paid dues, cause niggas know I honor the rules
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| Left no clues, X found, case is closed
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| While you go against the grain, with a plane of fo’s
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| Take that slang to go, with the rubber handle steel
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| Spit dum-dums at labels, with a 50−50 deal
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| Explode to your guts, that part left hollow
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| Show the world your nuts, I’m the hoodlum role model
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| To all the competition that’ll follow
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| Just remember damage to the 99th power
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| No one knows the hour, that the Bow will strike
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| Took the sword from Hitler, that they stuck in Christ
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| Now who’s nice?. |
| Now who’s nice?
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| Yo, you see the press is too hot (uh-huh) when you rush my flows
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| I got, three for twenty-five, rhymes flip like blows
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| What you never heard this voice, it’s big Cee from the state
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| (where you from nigga?) Where we pimp hustle hard, bang it out for the weight
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| Eyes wide, cause me and my niggas organize crime
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| You either get it in the streets, or runnin from the jail lines
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| My game’s at command, I show the world my status
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| It’s filthy to the death blastin black automatics
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| You niggas talk pain, he will catch these shells
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| Twenty-three hours on lockdown, one out your cell
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| I know it sounds sick, when you deal in this form
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| My city, the home where the killers is born
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| Close capture, East and West, now that you have to
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| Leave a little room for this Midwest rapture
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| And there’s no endin, to the words I spit
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| I sacrifice my soul for this filthy rich shit (gangsta shit)
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| Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah
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| Y’all niggas know it’s trouble, y’knamsayin?
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| I got my Detroit niggas
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| I got my New York niggas
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| I’m a Chi-Town nigga
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| And it’s goin down for the new millenium motherfuckers! |
Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Trouble , by - Royce 5'9. Song from the album Build & Destroy, in the genre Рэп и хип-хоп