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royce da 5'9'' - hottest in the hood lyrics
[intro: royce da 5’9″]
h-llo hip-hoppers, my-sp-cers, facebookers, tweeters
this is royce da 5’9″ and i’m officially starting the bar exam 3
slaughterhouse movement, y’all n-ggas ain’t with us then what the f-ck is y’all doing, b-tches
me and vishis, nevermind, let’s just go into it
[hook]
young vish, take a dookey with me
asher roth, take a dookey with me
kid cudi, take a dookey with me
my n-gga drake, take a dookey with me
wale, take a dookey with me
charles hamilton, take a dookey with me
[verse 1: royce da 5’9″]
as you can see i’m on some new school sh-t
i pull strings like the symphony to get you murdered so you can call it a juice crew hit
we carrying this
my n-gga joey already murdered this beat. i’m digging it up and re-burying it
i wish a fake would. n-gga, nickel stay good
the nose on the shotgun wide like j. hood’s
speaking of him, he’s a bum
hundred rounds, i hundred pound punks, get done
rap n-gga, rapping his way to his demise
i ain’t ransom, chump; i don’t shoot in the sky
speaking of him, he a bum, too
i treat war like it’s a art like sun tzu
i feel like i am the answer when the gun drew
the most rhetorical question is, “what you gon’ do?”
gang starr pennacle as far as preme goes
through with the album. i’m in bar exam 3 mode
y’all n-ggas fools; riding with n-ggas. i ride with pistols and gardening tools. that mean hoes!
y’all motherf-cker’s crazy
and i don’t understand it like ross dissing 50 cent and big and i’m shady
no disrespect to big ross, i f-ck with you, dog!
y’all n-ggas tryna get rid of me: flush the toilet
i’m the sh-t. the physical [?]. the fact that i got it is just why i’m down the trick
speaking of trick, i’m down with trick. what i spit is illegal it just sound legit!
and y’all so-so
i’m in my own lane. ain’t n0body else in it like i’m in the car solo
the flow trip a n-gga naked and then leave pasties on his nipples. i let the bars go-go!
young vishis with me. he the next
fit slaughterhouse member. let el nino bless
we like woo, he the inspector; he on deck
we like the tribe, either the “booyah!” or call quest
i’m (bar bell brolic)
my n-ggas’ k!ller bees. y’all n-gga smelling like bee pollen
honey. don’t do it to yourself, dunny
guess it’s my n-gga crooked cause we can hit n-ggas on ryker’s island
you can either die or dodge a bullet
n0body riding but the shotty and me and my hooded. what else is you good at?
your rhymes is dying
i’m flawless. call me vvs diamond ryan
it’s how we got the lames
knock a n-gga t–th out of his mouth, have him feeling that tallah-ssee pain
f-ck the motherf-cking bucket; he can kick the bucket
booyaka! booyaka! finger touching. end of discussion
[hook:]
[verse 2: kid vishis]
sick rap, verbal ar
pain kickback at the end of every bar
how are you a star when local is all you are
you a starving artist that can’t walk through the mall
cook crack, i don’t even cook food
i have my b-tch do that, i’m that dude
the ’09 ravishing rick rude
let you marry her so i can take her on a honeymoon
and you two goon blog boss
get you all off, no cost, your loss. we want war
j hood, you lunch, boy
[?]
ha! laugh at you. ain’t got the heart to pull the piece and blast, you smaller than my niece
slaughterhouse affiliate, i’m a beast
i don’t write raps, i drop t-rds on beats
any random n-gga better than ransom
blog is bad for your health, you indoubted yourself
you a k!ller? n-gga, k!ll. p-ssy be a p-ssy, smells fishy. make them take the bait
for heaven’s sake
i rhyme like i can write rhymes for weezy like drake
for the cake i’ll battle a savage
f-ck the cops. show me the green, i’ll bring malice
he trying to drop hip-hop, i’m trying to grab it
from your ringtone rappers, fake gs and f-ggots
i know i ain’t the baddest, true. my brother smack man’ll have you bagged in the trash
trying to burn me and get your -ss whooped
fast as dj vlad calling ross a turn piece
call the ambulance, he couldn’t stand a chance
357 in hand doing a hammer dance
take a n-gga back like the hammer pants, watch ya life get took from you like hammmer’s mansion
rip up bum c fright
cold enough to swallow the sun and bring night
sneeze light, fight through the cypher just to steal your pen, pad and your mic
not a k!ller but bullets change ya life like erykah badu, p-ssy
[hook:]
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