Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Trouble, artist - Royce 5'9. Album song Build & Destroy, in the genre Рэп и хип-хоп
Date of issue: 28.07.2003
Age restrictions: 18+
Record label: Heaven Studios
Song language: English
Trouble |
Uhh, yeah |
Royce 5−9, my nigga Bow Tie |
My nigga Cee, Six July |
Gangsta, what, gangsta, what, uhh |
Gangsta, niggas is gangsta |
Yo, I’m out here all day |
From when you hear the sounds of the car skiddin |
Then start dickin, gangsta from start to the finish |
Whassup — never socialable, nigga we too disposable |
If I get close to you it’s probably to dispose of you quicker |
Go 'head, try somethin — live or die by these numbers |
I’d rather live paralyzed than to die runnin, you feel it |
Stay out his path, he’s chaotic and mad |
Pull a K out and blast, and treat every day like his last |
I’m just a street nigga rhymin some words |
Dabble in the finest of furs, cowboy minus the spurs and saddle |
Prefer for battle; |
most deserved |
In highest level in cowboy status is not from herdin cattle |
One strange guy, I’m — nuttin like you mayn |
Guns all look the same to the un-trained eye |
Easy to find, tell me how a gorilla can hide |
The realest nigga breathin, ain’t no nigga realer alive |
Y’all niggas in trouble (in trouble) |
Y’all niggas in trouble (in trouble) |
Y’all niggas in trouble (in trouble) |
Y’all niggas in trouble, you don’t want this |
It’s the black Elmer Fudd, fuck a mansion and a yacht |
I got a project buildin, weed runnin on the block (c'mon) |
A sweet tooth for chronic, shit got me speakin in ebonics |
Killer cracker, respect me for my talent |
Sniff 'em out like a bloodhound |
Like they bag mills out in Vegas on the Greyhound |
I never plead guilty, come to court filthy |
Lawyer drunk off Henny, parole violators with me |
And still I walk cause it’s real |
Take they ass to trial then they lose a quarter mil', now that’s a deal |
Filthy rich at his best |
Love hell I write, with a 7 on my chest |
I come, real street knowledge, boulevard trade school |
Paid dues, cause niggas know I honor the rules |
Left no clues, X found, case is closed |
While you go against the grain, with a plane of fo’s |
Take that slang to go, with the rubber handle steel |
Spit dum-dums at labels, with a 50−50 deal |
Explode to your guts, that part left hollow |
Show the world your nuts, I’m the hoodlum role model |
To all the competition that’ll follow |
Just remember damage to the 99th power |
No one knows the hour, that the Bow will strike |
Took the sword from Hitler, that they stuck in Christ |
Now who’s nice?. |
Now who’s nice? |
Yo, you see the press is too hot (uh-huh) when you rush my flows |
I got, three for twenty-five, rhymes flip like blows |
What you never heard this voice, it’s big Cee from the state |
(where you from nigga?) Where we pimp hustle hard, bang it out for the weight |
Eyes wide, cause me and my niggas organize crime |
You either get it in the streets, or runnin from the jail lines |
My game’s at command, I show the world my status |
It’s filthy to the death blastin black automatics |
You niggas talk pain, he will catch these shells |
Twenty-three hours on lockdown, one out your cell |
I know it sounds sick, when you deal in this form |
My city, the home where the killers is born |
Close capture, East and West, now that you have to |
Leave a little room for this Midwest rapture |
And there’s no endin, to the words I spit |
I sacrifice my soul for this filthy rich shit (gangsta shit) |
Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah |
Y’all niggas know it’s trouble, y’knamsayin? |
I got my Detroit niggas |
I got my New York niggas |
I’m a Chi-Town nigga |
And it’s goin down for the new millenium motherfuckers! |