Lyrics No Fly Zone - Trick Trick, Royce 5'9, K. Young

No Fly Zone

But how much longer, must we share in the masquerade
Could’ve known, it’s just a silly little game we play
Yeah, okay, what up though?
Trick Trick, Nickel
Blade said what up, nigga
My city no-fly zone, guy
Your clearance papers are waiting to be approved
Ha ha, BMB
Trick Trick, okay, hey
I’m just a phone call away
Come here without permission, I won’t hear shit you gotta say
Nigga, I created these laws so I enforce 'em
All we’re coming for is our portion
They don’t wanna do what we tell 'em so we force 'em
With the face full of Timbs and Air Forces
Get dead worse than a ho bitch in a foursome
I treat you like the Catholic church treat an abortion
We call it respect, you call it extortion
The big dogs out, put the little ones on the porches
This ain’t my city, nigga, this my fortress
And the kings been in corners
In the 'Vettes and 4-door Porsches
We don’t bust guns, we blow torches
Fire from the tip of these bitches for you informants
‘Cause it’s important willing to risk seeing the warden
Or leaving your kids to be orphans;
gatekeeper
And we rolling, always smoking
Fuck your mama, fuck your hoes
If you ain’t getting me what I want
My niggas hide in bandanas and sneak up on you
Like aye, we do or die
‘Cause this is no-fly zone, call it a suicide
You should’ve made a phone call
You would’ve been alright, alright
I’m a Rock City boss player, strictly sportswear chain wearer from the
Northland Fairlane era
Now I’m just an OG, tell the crew to proceed
To grow weed with no seeds
Then then go pick up the proceeds
Product of no sleep
Started the car then bought up the whole fleet
No problem, ‘cause I’ve been balling since '03
I’m impregnating my bitch left from right
Her belly been showin'
I’m high off life, they’re like, «Yeah, I bet he been stoned»
I took the shoes off the whip, now I’m tip-toein'
Through your hood with gold feet
You can call me Freddy Flintstone
I set the bar high like the coliseum roof
Ain’t no I in team man no U in Trick, Hex, Blade
OCB, me, and Proof, nigga, we the we it crew
We it, we up crew, we it
We on that Michigan state bitch, D Smith
'Fore your plane hit the runway we better hear these here
And we rolling, always smoking
Fuck your mama, fuck your hoes
If you ain’t getting me what I want
My niggas hide in bandanas and sneak up on you
Like aye, we do or die
‘Cause this is no-fly zone, call it a suicide
You should’ve made a phone call
You would’ve been alright, alright
As of here by the people
Detroit has officially become a no-fly zone
Thank you for your cooperation
Flight four-seven-two has been delayed
Please see the representative at the counter for details
It’s just a silly little game we play