Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Wake_up, artist - Royce 5'9. Album song The Bar Exam 4, in the genre Иностранный рэп и хип-хоп
Date of issue: 19.06.2017
Age restrictions: 18+
Record label: Heaven Studios
Song language: English
Wake_up |
Hello, Hip Hop, what are you doing? |
'Cause nowadays you just all seem ruined |
Will you wake up? |
What are you doing? |
Using way too much autotune |
Hello, Hip Hop, what are you doing? |
What’s some of that corny shit that you been on? |
(Wake up) |
(Can you wake up?) |
Respect the art |
I got one question for y’all |
(Can you wake up?) |
Competitive rap is back in effect |
You niggas out here playing bitchball flapping your neck |
What in the fuck is wrong with y’all? |
Get back to respect |
Put on a shirt, get back to the six-pack on the steps |
And everybody can’t be motherfucking sexy |
I just wish niggas would understand that |
Man, Instagram just need a dunce button |
Now all the rappers got their hands wrapped in a boxing gym |
You throw your punches like you ain’t ever punch nothing ever |
And on the behalf of all men you making us look bad |
I’m sure if we took you to the gun range you couldn’t spray the target, fam |
You couldn’t fight your way out a paper bag with Shenaynay from Martin hands |
You couldn’t beat my daughter in a game of basketball in a garbage can in the |
streets |
If y’all scared, nigga, call the police |
I wonder if they know how soft they all look today |
Fuck a drive-by, I just hop out the car and mush a face |
They all crooks and snakes, all serpents |
All part of the large circus mixed with Cirque du Soleil |
They all purpose, clique jumpers, they all ball-jerkers |
Ex-mall workers who text wrong |
Shit like the K without the O in front |
Get off the phone, chump |
Your career is like a microwave without the door in front |
Liked today, but you ain’t holding none |
Your raps are like just okay, but problem is you’re just okay with that |
Where the fuck did rap get dislocated at? |
I’m just gonna keep spitting 'till this shit’s in place |
'till I feel 2008 is back |
Fans being way too nice, where all my haters at? |
I spit hiatus raps, I’m just that good |
I never ride the wave 'cause I’m the water, I’m like the rap Suge |
Minus the fade by the barber, and all our thoughts cold |
And all y’all thoughts blow, ours is Pearl Harbor |
And all my thoughts go in line, they can go inside of a barcode |
I got the violent history of Gotti’s polaroid flow, there’s only one way to |
picture me |
Instantly a body |
My twin barrells I call Tiara and Tia Mowry |
Being shot at is about as likely as seeing y’all on lean and Molly |
My mind shuffles thoughts |
'Till hard lines touch the bars |
And then I spit it like I’m trying to fill up a couple vaults |
People find love and realize that love is love |
And they should be the fucking law 'cause love is love even when love is lost |
You niggas need to be aggressive again |
You niggas at them labels need to come from the back of them desks and find the |
next nigga with talent |
And quit being so skewed by views and streams |
Or I’ll come through and pee in your vegan salad |