Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Horseshoe , by - Royce 5'9. Release date: 13.07.2010
Age restrictions: 18+
Song language: English
Horseshoe |
| Let’s get this lyrical murdering under way |
| Put these niggas way under, no delay andale |
| Make these niggas lay under |
| Dirt, the undertaker’s taking over |
| No wonder they getting ate by the eighth wonder |
| What you saying sorry like apologies |
| My poisonous bars got toxicologists |
| Analyzing my anthologies |
| Can’t harm me, why pop at me |
| It’s like I got hereditary sensory autonomic neuropathy |
| Why box with me, harder to hit than a lottery |
| Why bother me, kill cats like curiosity |
| We enter the place and niggas shake like they naked strippers |
| They hate these niggas because we make figures like a pottery |
| Y’all upset me like a nun who’s bad |
| I’m deadly with my one-two jab |
| I can punch through, gun proof glass |
| Kill shit when I wreck, Conrad Murry |
| I’m responsible for this mics death |
| Allow me to put this in perspective, check it |
| That was Bar Exam One, allow me to quote from the second |
| Nigga there gotta know, nobody as hot as me |
| Got a dragon’s heart, boy I’m so Sean Connery |
| The four-five pop’ll give your whole squad lobotomy |
| My snub nose in the air and the chrome shotty gotta be conceited |
| Bring life to rhymes I’m creating |
| Bust hard on a track before it stop ovulating |
| You say you sick come see me, the rhyme doctor’s waiting |
| My occupation is to off my patients |
| It’s not augmentations when I put something in your chest |
| And yep, tools fucking you up like a botched operation |
| I let them slugs go free, my Glocks not enslaving |
| My bullets nigga, pull the trigga from my tool and thin ya |
| Niggas hear my Glocks proclamation, bullet emancipation |
| Every hot shot’s a statement |
| Shoe-gang, they loot for they loot |
| Quick gunners you ain’t got a shot when they shoot |
| To the grave I’m a walk around with the trey deuce |
| Die with my arms out like I’m trying to be Jesus |
| I’m gigantic and quite manic and accurate when ever I blam it |
| That’s the reason these niggas panic |
| Get it right, I’m disgusting around mics |
| Like Yahtzee this game is nothing without Dice |
| No matter how many thoughts I leak on cheap (?) tapes |
| I can never fully drain my massive think tank |
| Play me the best, I bet I’ll eat what he can’t |
| Even he’ll have to mark my pictures my speech paint |
| We mobsters, rocking rocks and goat |
| Nine tick toking, watches, cocking rides and fighting (?) |
| Popping optics, squashing squash with problem |
| Y’all can’t stop these cobsters, that’s preposterous |
| I’m a spot light villain |
| Diamond heist I’m shine stealing |
| I must be Christ-like cause your wife she like kneeling |
| If looks could kill I got you in my sniper sight |
| I’m ice thrilling like my ice grills in |
| Erase you like ancient Mayans |
| Escape from an insane asylum |
| I’ll make any atheist and satanist praise a tyrant |
| I’m scraping the sky be height a giant that’s named Goliath |
| When I stomp the continent brakes creating islands |
| In honor of Obama’s inauguration I’m enslaving Republicans |
| I stuff em in concentration |
| Camps I’m Osama and I’m a racist |
| I hate the human race so I’m wasting the population |
| I’m an ape and I’m crazy as dominatrix and Dahmer raping his momma to spawn an |
| abomination |
| Wait, give me the safe’s combination |
| I’m Tyra Banks brother Bobby |
| I rob banks with the face of Ronald Reagan |
| Y’all bitches should call Nickel the Don Bishop |
| The poet, a mixture of Don Go and some John Grisham |
| The flow will have you rewinding four-five times |
| That landmine rhyme written with porcupine lines |
| Step up here with the horseshoe |
| COB gang we them folks who will |
| Bend your gun barrel to a horseshoe |
| Only fuck with monsters, we the true monsters |
| I pop up on you like you said Beetlejuice, Beetlejuice, Beetlejuice |
| I can’t even see the both |
| I can fit in Stevie’s shoe |
| I’m sick, I’ve got that Desert Eagle flu |
| I’m rich, little nigga we don’t need the set, Teflon |
| The doctor tried to take blood the needle bent, ask mom |
| Fifty percent of you niggas is punk bitches |
| I fuck with real niggas |
| Real niggas that want weight but don’t want fitness |
| Vision a horseshoe is all I could see, shit |
| Me and Crooked I done let the dogs off their leashes |
| Just let it ride |
| Just let that shit set in |
| Let it resonate in your brain, fruit |