Lyrics Rock That - Royce 5'9, Kid Vishis

Rock That

Ooh!
Put up your hands, show me the real you
If you don’t put your hands up then I’ma kill you
You ain’t never been touched homie, I can’t feel you
I don’t listen to threats, n*gga I can’t hear you (hello?)
Put up your hands, show me the real you
If you don’t put your hands up, I’ma kill you
I’m the shit fool, it’s the king prince too
I’m the next shit from the I’m Da Shit crew, ooh
N*gga get cool, «You're my boy Blue!
Blue, you’re my boy!»
I’ll Chicago, Illinois you
N*gga we’ll destroy you
It’s a motherf*ckin' wrap when it come to that heat like aluminum foil
I, can’t, feel you;
I want you to (rock that) shit
(Rock that) shit (rock that) shit
(Rock that) shit (rock that) shit
(Ro-ro-ro-ro-ro-ro-ro…)
Idolize 'em, not a lot of 'em, body by them
There’s a bottle by the fags, she should try to follow
The man with the rocks, rocky as Colorado standin' on top of them
Toppin' top the opposition, I ain’t quittin' 'til Vishis in my position
I drop this apocalyptic, you got to be optimistic
I’m hot hot hot
Let’s try this shit again
Vishis the prince, the topic of the spit
This cop nowhere near it, I’m in a win-win position (yes)
Could send killers to knock-knock (who is it?)
Hard in pot, fall by the end of the visit (yes)
No henchmen
Six shots the biscuit
Smackin' on his back like I’m burpin' a infant
Then n*gga put up your hands, show me the real you
Put money on your head and then I’ma bill you
Take it out yo ass in hell, I’m on a ratchet trail
And you about to see the gat derail!
I, can’t, feel you;
I want you to (rock that) shit
(Rock that) shit (rock that) shit
(Rock that) shit (rock that) shit
(Ro-ro-ro-ro-ro-ro-ro…)
Yeah, Vishis and Nickel equipped with pistols
Missiles’ll hit your tissues sizzle show you and stay, like Mystikal
Clip to whoever riddle, my mental see you and scratch
You tryin' to scrap to cover up the fact you can’t rap
I, can’t, feel you;
I want you to (rock that)
Glock that, pop that, shock that
Down to click twos, I’ma spit true
Dominant crew, I’m the shit fool!
Ooh!
Put the clip to a actor, cut!
You motherf*ckers up when it’s action, n*gga what?
We don’t fight rappers, we write back at ya
Black mac blap, n*ggaz back snap backwards
Ooh!
Actors, act puss, blow 'em off the atlas
Fear n*ggas should fear, on point like a cactus
You probably need to practice, that’s it, backflip
Word blacksmith, herb active dope!
I, can’t, feel you;
I want you to (rock that) shit
(Rock that) shit (rock that) shit
(Rock that) shit (rock that) shit
(Ro-ro-ro-ro-ro-ro-ro…)
Ooh!