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royce da 5'9'' - 187 (response) كلمات الأغنية

[intro]

[sample]
“—day you die—if you’re one of the poor ones, you just gotta work hard”

[verse 1]
my sh-t is laid out
f-ck that beef sh-t, that sh-t is played out
why is it harder for peace over violence?
n-ggas don’t know the art of war, we roll in silence
it always got to be that one n-gga that’s the loudest
that ain’t gon’ do no poppin’ when it’s time to be about it
rah-rah-rah-rah, f-ck outta here with that sh-t
you puttin’ way too much p-ssion into that wack sh-t
put your dukes down n-gga, we come in peace
with them ak-47’s, we from the streets
calm down, shhhh, you so emotional
i know where you’re at in your career is such a low for you
i understand it, but understand this, my daddy taught me manners
so it’s foreign to fly off the handle and talk to cameras
that sh-t is lame, lames we don’t respect
we wonderin’ why the f-ck you so upset
we know the streets’ll swallow you, look what that powder do
look at you try to embody what’s not really inside of you
i promise you, that if you chill now, in 5 years
i will not ride through the mcdonald’s drive thru and bother you
i’m here for fries, that’s it, chicken nuggets
give me some sweet and sour sauce too and quit your buggin’
i’m just above it, i’m too mature for this
it ain’t smart to go to war for this

[hook]
’cause i’m a rider, i’m about that 187
’cause i’m a rider, i’m about that 187
you not a rider, not about that 187
you not a rider
187, 187, 187, 187
187, 187, 187, 187

[verse 2]
got the illest flow because i flow it from my soul
you said yourself; you got the greatest story never told
these n-ggas got the b-lls to say that i can’t write no record
but them plaques on my wall say that y’all should read the credits
r dot montgomery, ghostwriter, and for the right price?
y’all know the rest, get your dough, biters
y’all goin’ left, get your m.o. in check
later with them vendettas, handle your liquor better
let’s play some tennis, go back and forth, who winnin’?
you will give into a koch deal away from -finished-
f-ck outta here with that, step your bars up
your sh-t is garbage, what, you tryin’ to kick knowledge? be honest
step your cars up, that little benz you know is lame
i’d rather ride in a remote control soulja boy chain
i’m so insane, i flow with open flame
note to self: leave him floatin’ if he spoke your name
that’s why i don’t bother n0body
i catch a body all alone cause i don’t ride with n0body
n-ggas figures been put on jenny craig
look what the prison built, you big up top with skinny legs
c’mon johnny bravo, you f-ckin’ with the whole detroit, chill out
them s.-.b.s without the swing, and easy get out
i’m quick to stick the clip in, just ask my n-gga crooked
joey budden got you n-ggas trippin’

[hook]
’cause i’m a rider, i’m about that 187
’cause i’m a rider, i’m about that 187
you not a rider, not about that 187
you not a rider
187, 187, 187, 187
187, 187, 187, 187

[outro: royce da 5’9″ + sample]
i got a muh’f-ckin’ gucci beard—with a prada’ mustache
a muh’f-ckin’ louis vuitton chest hair
i got vizene tears, n-gga, aheheha
i got a muh’f-ckin’ platinum foot—with diamond toenails, n-gga, hahahuh
f-ck you talkin’ ’bout?
and you? you got a motherf-ckin’ dog-b-tt—with b-tch-t-ts
bar exam 3, slaughterhouse
i got a muh’f-ckin’ crib, made out of silicone t-tties
(the most interestin’ man in the world!)
i got a coogi bathroom—made out of biggie smalls’ sweater, n-gga
i got a specially made kangol—made out of ll cool j chapstick, n-gga, hahha
i’m so interestin’, haha
you lil’ fruit!
i got motherf-ckin’ cartier pubic-hair!
i got remote-control boxers—with—hahahahaha!
(the most interestin’ man in the world!)
“he has am-ssed an incredibly large de—”

- royce da 59

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