| Call it Paranoia. |
| Yea
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| Every day is war. |
| Every day, niggas is gon' hate
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| Gotta move
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| I’m a walking target
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| I’m so far from soft, I’m probably close to the hardest
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| Nigga you ever saw, been never thug, never had a problem
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| And the shit he never starts, sickest artist there ever was
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| Nigga found dead in his house, don’t know who did it
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| Yea, you bet it was me, niggas die at the pavement
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| I’m wavin a nine out of the window and blazin
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| Is your house shakin
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| Who’s inside nigga, it’s funeral time nigga
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| They die from stray hits, pride wasted
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| Cry your face, I ain’t your suit and your tie
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| Now look what you made us
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| Look at the witnesses, all of them look shakin
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| And alls they seen was the back of a green car with the plate flipped
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| Look at the news, I did it without puttin a hit out own
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| You homies in chrome, watch that nigga
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| I got my back, because it’s my gat
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| And my mouth that *Started the War*
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| Lookin around me, got a gun on my lap
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| While I’m drivin, taking the back routs *Home*
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| If your headlights is in my rearview
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| For longer than three lights, and I don’t know you
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| I’mma pull over, And I might shoot you
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| You should go around me, and don’t look at me
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| 'Till after you pass me, cuz I might blast you nigga *I'm at war*
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| I’m Paranoid, always on point
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| Always holding nigga, always sober. |
| Call it paranoia
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| In your bushes, on the side of your house
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| Waitin to smoke you when come in from hangin out
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| Friday night, perfect, I timed it just right
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| I know you at the club cuz your car is nowhere in sight
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| I’m like the DC sniper, Mr. Malvo
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| Strategically precise when I squeeze the cali-co
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| You look like a asshole, full of shit
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| Niggas sure to get hit, when my fo-fo spit
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| Black shirt, black jeans, black boots, black whip
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| Black mask, paif of black leather gloves for my grip
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| I don’t need no print, a killer with a plan
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| Makin sure I dont get, gunpowder on my hands
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| All drama I’mma end it, murder game splended
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| Leavin all crews for the fucker in forensics
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| I got, two dependants, I gotta make it home
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| Clean get-away, two bullets through your dome
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| Is locked nigga
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| — La the Darkman
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| And that’s just how the story goes y’all
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| Any nigga where I’m from already knows
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| Funny, my homie cuz said niggas gon' bring you a bowl of soup when you sick
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| But if you die, then gonna love you later
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| Think you a fuckin statue or some shit
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| God bless these streets, God bless these streets right now
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| I’mma just be doing my thing so maybe, you know, I could show you how
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| Don’t come lookin for trouble, cuz you just might find it
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| Don’t stand too close to me, I’m always on point, never blinded |
Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Paranoia , by - Royce 5'9. Song from the album Independent's Day, in the genre Иностранный рэп и хип-хоп