Give me a mountain. Give me a sea

Put your mind on wonderland, be what you want to be. Wooow

It's Politics. Ha my nigga

Politics. Ha my nigga

Politics. Ha my nigga

Politics. Ha my nigga

Politics. Ha my nigga

Politics. Ha my nigga

Politics. Ha my nigga

Politics. Ha my nigga





Seven years and countin, I've been accounting

For unaccountable rap problems

'Cause accountant countin his rap dollars

The ice watch on the sleeve of the white collar

Leanin like the Pisa towser, he's in power

Standing on top of the black bottom

You should pack up now that the dirty glove is with me

Take your hat off inside of the mitten when you spittin

'Cause you can get it for sure

Your whole rap clapped up out you

If I don't get you back up

Got you in a morgue sittin stiff in the drawer

Niggaz I can't be caught, I can't be bought

They call me the anti-core, anti-talk

Anti, when it comes to gettin the kind of hugs

That come from a fake thug

That show me a sign of love

Who am I to judge but you would not out of love

Walk up if I was washed up like a Tsunami flood

I ain't trying to bug

But that's why you got to shove

Come on..









Excuse me while I school them on how to pay these dues

Tell whoever jealous and want to slay me, cool

The whole game got the old bland of Mercedes blues

Everybody wanna fill Jay-Z shoes

I call it the Ferrari sniffs, the Phantom flu

'Cause y'all sick, what already exists, can't be you

I told y'all niggaz in oh-two that I can't be touched

Yo bitch call me sugar dick with the candy nuts

But ain't shit sweet, don't get it twisted

I'll beat yo ass, I don't need wine, I don't need cash

I'll stick a sock in any nigga mouth in any market

If he talkin, he a target, walk in his apartment

While he drinkin, spark him 'til he leakin, coughin Remy Martin

'Cause if I flip my lid, you'd have to toss him in the garbage

Is nothin to toughen you out, fuck is you frontin about

We cuttin you in, I'm cuttin you out









Royce five nine is a prophet, in every sense of the word

Superb finisher, administer words like ministers

The tall tales of the low sales of a poet

Centuries rolled up in the pen that he holds up

He holds it to holy grail, when he saw the soul

he was since told his flows, the Davinci code decoded

Since chosen, he prays harder

But everytime he spot a rival revolvers inside

His bible like, Gregory Heins with the rage of Harlem

Po-po's harder, team free-on, we so cold

Red like beam be on sight, we got weed neon green

We got a one yay, Celine Deion white, green

Your last breath, you about five heartbeats away from death

'Cause you the leon type, so muahh

Make you rest in peace

No more records bein sold, less is me

Five nine, unsigned









Yeahh, Royce Da 5'9", my nigga Nottz

This is a M.I.C and teams with collaboration

Ladies and gentleman, I would like to introduce to you, Cee-Lo Green. Let's go





Give me a mountain. (Dream my nigga). Give me a sea

(All my niggaz dealin with the politics). Put your mind on wonderland

(I smell you my nigga). Be what you want to be. (Dream my nigga)



It's politics my nigga.