(feat. Kid Vishis, Iyana Dean)




{"Frequency..."}



[Royce Da 5'9"]

Fresh off the jet from just fuckin with Puff

I'm feelin like the best, nobody - bring it back

Fresh off the jet from just fuckin with Puff

I'm feelin like the best, nobody fuckin with us

We done turned to a bygone don crew

We got the semi Kimora like Djimon Hounsou

A lifetime criminal, live by a code we call shush

Fireman ladder flow, look at it, my bar is up

As you can see I'm a beast on the track

I'm even worse, I'm the hearse with the reef on the back

I'm like the gun at the race, son you only get one shot

My album is the finish line, here's where your run stops

'Bout to go fishin with a clip that's extended

Because your momma got a glass eye with a fish in it (haha)



[Chorus 2X: Iyana Dean]

I-I think my, niggaz is soldiers

I-I think my, bitches is gangstas

I-I think my, niggaz is soldiers

I-I think my, I-I think (HUT!)



[Royce Da 5'9"]

I get money, I get bitches, I get bored or - bring it back

I get bitches, I get money, no specific order

Filthy hit recorder, wipe or Ricky mixed with Ricky Porter

Butchie Jones mixed with Mr. Combs with the tooky aura

I'm a muh'fucker, no really I fuck mothers

I chug bottles and pass out on they La-Z-Boy

She try to leave them lil' niglets with me? Shiiit

I treat 'em all like I'm Snoop Dogg in "Baby Boy"

Leave me alone, I'm Hancock

Liquor sto' close I'm swoopin 'round hittin the second-hand spot

I don't fuck with no hoe unless she a dancer

There's no position, drug or liquor she can't try

I'm Cancer, me versus them is a landslide

If your face is fly, and your body is decent

This your inauguration the same time your impeachment

I got a lotta anger - I was hot before your first shit

Not your album, but before your momma potty trained ya



[Chorus]



[Kid Vishis]

Where my soldiers attack (it's a wrap)

Hold up - when my soldiers attack, it's a wrap

One clap'll lay you unconscious, bullets alpha-mega slap

Cock grenade here, think we scared? No way

Set yo' ass up like the cops did O.J.

Fo' spray his body make his chest explode

The barrel on the shotty wide as KRS's nose

Partner, (Buck-shot) ya

Rap like a automatic gun, lungs stoppin means you can't breathe proper

Yeah, they like I'm on some other shit

Whole clique hold heat like a oven mitt

To fuck with this you want me on wax

So I'ma tax you lil' local rappers worse than the government

Bastard - the closest you niggaz been 

to a shotgun is in the car front seat passenger

How 'bout you take a trip in the trunk?

Ride to the pastor for a casket to hold ya; it's over!



[Chorus]