Royce Da 5?9?

Royce Da 5?9? - Trouble lyrics

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(feat. Bow Tie, Cee (a.k.a. Polar Bear))



[Royce Da 5'9"]

Uhh, yeah

Royce 5-9, my nigga Bow Tie

My nigga Cee, Six July

Gangsta, what, gangsta, what, uhh

Gangsta, niggaz is gangsta



Yo, I'm out here all day

From when you hear the sounds of the car skiddin

Then start dickin, gangsta from start to the finish

Whassup - never socialable, nigga we too disposable

If I get close to you it's probably to dispose of you quicker

Go 'head, try somethin - live or die by these numbers

I'd rather live paralyzed than to die runnin, you feel it

Stay out his path, he's chaotic and mad

Pull a K out and blast, and treat every day like his last

I'm just a street nigga rhymin some words

Dabble in the finest of furs, cowboy minus the spurs and saddle

Prefer for battle; most deserved

in highest level in cowboy status is not from herdin cattle

One strange guy, I'm – nuttin like you mayn

Guns all look the same to the un-trained eye

Easy to find, tell me how a gorilla can hide

The realest nigga breathin, ain't no nigga realer alive



[Chorus x2: Royce]

Y'all niggaz in trouble (in trouble)

Y'all niggaz in trouble (in trouble).

Y'all niggaz in trouble (in trouble)

Y'all niggaz in trouble, you don't want this



[Bow Tie]

It's the black Elmer Fudd, fuck a mansion and a yacht

I got a project buildin, weed runnin on the block (c'mon)

A sweet tooth for chronic, shit got me speakin in ebonics

Killer cracker, respect me for my talent

Sniff 'em out like a bloodhound

Like they bag mills out in Vegas on the Greyhound

I never plead guilty, come to court filthy

Lawyer drunk off Henny, parole violators with me

And still I walk cause it's real

Take they ass to trial then they lose a quarter mil', now that's a deal

Filthy rich at his best

Love hell I write, with a 7 on my chest

I come, real street knowledge, boulevard trade school

Paid dues, cause niggaz know I honor the rules

Left no clues, X found, case is closed

While you go against the grain, with a plane of fo's

Take that slang to go, with the rubber handle steel

Spit dum-dums at labels, with a 50-50 deal

Explode to your guts, that part left hollow

Show the world your nuts, I'm the hoodlum role model

To all the competition that'll follow

Just remember damage to the 99th power

No one knows the hour, that the Bow will strike

Took the sword from Hitler, that they stuck in Christ

Now who's nice? .. Now who's nice?



[Chorus]



[Cee]

Yo, you see the press is too hot (uh-huh) when you rush my flows

I got, three for twenty-five, rhymes flip like blows

What you never heard this voice, it's big Cee from the state

(where you from nigga?) Where we pimp hustle hard, bang it out for the weight

Eyes wide, cause me and my niggaz organize crime

You either get it in the streets, or runnin from the jail lines

My game's at command, I show the world my status

It's filthy to the death blastin black automatics

You niggaz talk pain, he will catch these shells

Twenty-three hours on lockdown, one out your cell

I know it sounds sick, when you deal in this form

My city, the home where the killers is born

Close capture, East and West, now that you have to

leave a little room for this Midwest rapture

And there's no endin, to the words I spit

I sacrifice my soul for this filthy rich shit (gangsta shit)



[Chorus]



[Outro]

Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah

Y'all niggaz know it's trouble, y'knamsayin?

I got my Detroit niggaz

I got my New York niggaz

I'm a Chi-Town nigga

And it's goin down for the new millenium motherfuckers!
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Author: ?

Composer: ?

Publisher: ?

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Language: English

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