[Royce Da 5'9"]

You know I really don't get it

Motherfuckers

Act like they want me in the game one minute

Out the game the next minute

Fuck do ya'll want?



[Female Singer]

First you want me in

Then you want me out

(Ya'll niggaz is too fickle)First you want me in

Then you want me out



[Verse 1]

You a hop, skip, and a jump

From poppin' shit to the one

Ridin' the dick of the one

Who rides sick wit' a young

Fly chick in a gun (gun!)

Inside the whip when he come

Shine lyrically dope

My ability strokes the Todd Bridges of dose

A fly mix with a toast

Of my niggaz who jump (jump!)

From my side to run in with my enemies (punks!)

Keep on temptin' me

I'm just a hop, skip and a jump

From goin' ballistic, so nigga go and diss if you want

Go and mention me homie, you gon' eventually jump

You gon' switch when it comes to that chrome click

And then one of your own hit

You just a hop, skip and a jump (jump!)

From not listenin' to me like my shit don't exist

Til I spit and you jump back on the dick of the one

Accurate wit' a gun

Mathematician wit' funds

Minus a fifth of that rum

Divide it with the hunger

Times it with the times you fronted on my shit, on my dick

If one of them lines stick to your brain

You now witness the pain

Of my addition of rain

The sun without the distance between

None of what God gave you

The shade is now taken away, today



[Female Singer]

Do you want me in?

Do you want me out?

(Just like pussy)

(You remind me of a cunt)

Do you want me in?

Do you want me out?



[Verse 2]

I'm just as underground as it gets

You can come down in this ditch

I'm hidden a mile deep

The mummy without stitchin' but I don't sleep, I pump

Without snitchin, I'm simply about gettin' this money

I don't just dive in to what would be my end if I jump

The politics of this game

Niggaz be followin' names

They ride with who the hottest, and criticizin' the same

You lil' Nas's and Jay-Z's, we got on the scene

Not only make me wait for the remix, but sick

Make me squeamish

Make me think later that one of ya'll can be who the fake king is

One of ya'll can be on the good label of Push

Five mics and a Source cuz of who pulled a favor

Arrogant as a fuck, and you may have been just as humble

To now fussin' bout who, sharin' the cover this month

Man please

This nigga's diseased comin' wit' better throwaway rhymes

Then every one of your keepers, punks (punks!)

Do you listen at all?

It's fools that's winnin battles bought by the label, on cable

And never gettin' the call

Ten tapes at a time, you send it off to the label

And wait at the mailbox

While they make up they minds



[Female Singer]

Do you want me in? (Yeah)

Do you want me out?

(Ya'll try me, knowin' that ya'll niggaz is punks)

First you want me in

Then you want me out

(Yeah!)

(Is this what you want?)