| DJ’s and MC’s
|
| Comin up next is the incredible
|
| We takin it back to the beats and the RHYYYYYYYYYMES…
|
| 5−9 is BACK, about to make a nigga spin on his BACK
|
| Not on a cardboard, on the ground with people surroundin
|
| lookin down at him lookin astounded
|
| Ready to draw around him; |
| an outline of his body in chalk form
|
| This nigga here let the trigger talk for him
|
| His niggaz’ll bark for him, for real, his heart’s warm
|
| So you’ve been warned (GO GO GO GO GO GO GO GO GO GO.)
|
| I don’t even need to be drunk forever, the liquor is rootin me on
|
| I turn tables fast as Jam Master Jay do
|
| I’m N.W.A., I choke hoes like Dre
|
| Poke holes in the pavement, throw foes in the grave
|
| If you could choose between a broke nose or the A.K.
|
| I make movies like Cube 'cept I use hammers
|
| YEP! |
| I shoot but I don’t do it with cameras
|
| NOPE! |
| So you can call me Malcolm
|
| You can all witness what I be doin to all of these rappers (yes!)
|
| Wit’chall sloppy tactics; |
| don’t try to copycat me if you ain’t tryna box me back
|
| And watch your back, don’t take another look into the eyes
|
| of a nigga that’s willin to ride 'til he blind
|
| (Fuck a hook. fuck a hook)
|
| Chk-chk-chk, Royce. |
| 5. 9. (he's baaaaack)
|
| Yeah, and it’s on
|
| (Fuck a hook. fuck a hook. fuck a hook)
|
| Chk-chka-chka-chka, I will rhyme all day
|
| YES!
|
| I’ll show you the back of your brain
|
| Slap you with the back of the gun
|
| Clap you when the rappin is done
|
| I aim to hit, I pack macs, accurate ones
|
| Change the clip, I send rappers back where they from
|
| Changin fast, the game I ask is not a sport
|
| I’m tired of bein a fuckin day late and a dollar short
|
| And I’m back! |
| All of you rap niggaz hide your mics
|
| I’m ridin, dyin, and I ain’t flyin by on them bikes
|
| I’m walkin, talkin, you eye me you dyin tonight
|
| This iron is showin you the shine designed by Christ
|
| And I, am the head reaper about the sick shit
|
| You about to see dead people without the Sixth Sense
|
| And yeah, takin food off my mother’s table’ll
|
| get you killed regardless, like my brother’s label
|
| My heart and arteries a part of me, that’ll test the truest
|
| We can do it, put your vest into it, yeah
|
| (Fuck a hook. fuck a hook. fuck a hook)
|
| Chka-chka-chk, you don’t wanna play with him today
|
| Yea — NO!
|
| Yeah, hardcore! |
| Rhymes galore!
|
| OHH! |
| Givin you what you need
|
| Like I told you BEFOOOOOOOOOOORE.
|
| Yeah, the rap game is DEAD, I’m bout to breathe life in it Bring it back to when niggaz was cypherin
|
| Yeah, back in the DAY, when nobody needed radio play
|
| I was straight long as my radio played tapes
|
| And this went on before all of them pay dates
|
| We was backflippin and windmillin to save face
|
| These days, we’ll give you the mac so stay in your place
|
| I hope before you lay on your back, you sayin your grace (pray!)
|
| These new cats that rap to me they groupies
|
| You never see 'em in Max Julius or them Guccis
|
| Or they woulda got robbed for them Diadores
|
| or the Gazelles, we the store, we take, we sell your
|
| items we took, have you goin to tell
|
| We crooks, we either goin pro or goin to jail
|
| I know I’ma spare — many lifes
|
| This rap shit is comin with ME, cause don’t nobody know how to share
|
| (Fuck a hook. fuck a hook. fuck a hook)
|
| Chka-chka…
|
| (Get in your mind, get in your mind
|
| Get in your mind all day!!) |
Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Fuck A Hook, artist - Royce 5'9. Album song M.I.C. Presents, in the genre Иностранный рэп и хип-хоп