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Dead President Heads
par
Royce da 5'9"
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Letra
[Mixtape Intro] Trust the fucking shooter [Commercial Intro] Uh We in here counting dead president heads Up in the years, it’s been up in the mills of dead president heads and counting They put pictures of dead president heads on green, long papers Then went and put dead president heads on mountains How we ain’t gon’ make it? You know what [Verse] I went from women asking “what’s the scent of your fragrance?” to center of attention To dinners in Vegas, then all the way to Japan racking up yen Now I’m all the way back And I’m acting like Dennis in Vegas, stacking up wins I’m a young black boy, armed, dangerous To those who want to come and try harm or change him While they’re living in anguish, while I’m living in real nigga harmony Energy around me blend together like falsettos, tenors, and bass All intelligence is on God level All memories formed in melodies from the 70s And all hail to all dinners and plates And all hail to the cartels, and we out on a yacht And you know how we know that we are and you not? Because y’all are looking at our sales I’m a motherfucking one-man army I’m more R than our, I put the 'R' in ourselves Uh, I’m the one they can’t generalize Every time I come through straight, their wave minimize Why? It’s probably ‘cause I gun through they gay enterprise Niggas get crowned quick these days Street this, best this, king that, we ain’t seen that All we see around your clique is squad cars Niggas need to get crown vicked these days Stop kicking it, you couldn’t fit in my old socks Let alone my shoes I’m not a street nigga, I’m just a chip off the old block I ain’t rocked with an entourage since ‘07 Niggas dissed Marshall after they copy his whole reference Like we won’t send an actual firing squad to their studio That will Basquiat their whole session A lot of niggas dope, but none concern me though I got that Pac, Big L, Pun eternity flow I got that blowing that weed, taking that last drag in And tossed in the infirmary glow I’ll hit your broad in the gall bladder with this bald dagger Have her hollering “not the knife” ‘til she having an orgasm And all of her juices is haul-assing down the thighs God dropped me off in the drop with the crossroads with crossed toes and dotted eyes I’m not alive, I wasn’t born, I got a ride Uh, get your popcorn, idolize ‘cause I’ve arrived This is Cam Newton throwing bullets with the band shooting This is beat submission from Bas Rutten This the [?] edition of [?] it's proven Nigga, pay your dues, you’re past due here This cash rules, you’re looking at the wrong paper, this bad news Relax junior, you still think you’re in high school But you not, but you will be looking at your last new year Ha, boo-ya, bombs over Baghdad Compliments since 7 Mile, Fenkell Ave, Cash and Poo Bear With directions to just go blasting through there I ain’t stressing ‘bout none of you poindexter responses I ain’t tongue wrestling with no artist unless it’s Ashanti Nigga this, God, Gandhi, Kevlar labcoat Mixed together with leather bathrobes like Plies and Fonzi Cool science, I’m around lions and giants You there, Ryan’s here No one can hear you crying where I’m at, the highest tier One diss track could tear your whole act up like the Flatbush Zombies Gripping the Mac truck with Travis Scott, hitting your Macbook I’m not a pioneer, I’m the last of a dying prayer Living in forever, ever, ever, ever, ever in laughter And ever since that heffer put me on MediaTakeOut I ain’t fucked a basic bitch since I got sophisticated bitches coming to my place asking “is it safe to sit?” I said, “only if you have to take a shit” Country chick named Delores, I let her sit on this Mason dick Rappers blew up and get to shouting out designers I like to thank my notebook, it got me out of the binders Blacks never had each other’s backs Rappers saying “All Lives Matter”? Okay, now we’re actually spineless I’m into psychology nowadays, she say she bad I’ll probably brainwash her like Hollywood did Stacey Dash A lot of guys out slanging for a belt buckle like Pootie Tang Wada-Tah! 5’9” the illest MC of all time right now and all the time Kneel right in front of me like feel sobriety, young'n, or fall in line Uh, right now, I’m piranha dipping in waters of Flint with the Slaughters and Em Come on in, dummy, the water’s fine Sniff around, I smell just like money, I ain’t hard to find I’m doing big things This bitch asked me do I got at least 50 shades Just the other day I said, “come here, let me kick game I got more than 50 shades and just grey is the colorway” I gave my momma a pic of myself in a big frame And a card that says “bitch, I’m Rick James” for Mother’s Day Uh, I just thank the Lord and pray for more I just lifted the skirt of the devil I don’t really care how you're dress her Nigga, I'm just out here to take your drawers Make the winner fall on the track Let nature take it's course I'm a product of the old Death Row camp I ain't a fan of his, he might want to be standin' clear I come with the cannon, not the cameras I ain't Shannon Briggs, but let's go champ Let's slow dance Kill you with the first and give you seven more, necromance Best flow versus yo petrol rants, you gassin' This that new black Bent, blue Aston This that who dat against who askin, who ya again '99 the Outsidaz told me I wouldn't last I'm too arrogant But here I am, two boys two girls two era's in And they over there on pills and heroin Forks in they careers so that's real embarrassin' If I could just get you clean through my charities I might just let you breathe through me vicariously But then again, I might not cuz I don't write sparingly I'm torn between get along, fight, and why can't we Fuck the Stitches approach If I have to show up, I'm slashin' your throat Your arms are too O.G. Maco to box with O.G. Wacko the G.O.A.T I'm not a factor, I'm the whole problem Down to subtract for a fraction of folks Your favorite artist a diva I put leaves around the heads of non-believers like drawings of Ceasar Wake me when the sleepers are done ignoring me, bruh I'll be flying with a full tank of gas on ether If you from the block, watch y'all sons Watch y'all daughters, 'cause I saw murder Slaughter much as I saw hot sauce and hot dog water I came a long way from wishin' under the stars But I ain't come all of this way just to say I've come this far Coppin' paintbrushes with black cards There's no limit when it comes to this art No need for twitter followers, I dodged prison I'm the non-equivocal black and at large Listenin' to a Timbaland track in a villa in Calabasas I'm that same little Cringer and Battle Cat kid Addict specialty pen and pad scenematics spazzin' Fuckin' wit' a bitch about as bad as my spendin' habits I got nowhere askin' can I have it All the valuables I have in this world, I had to take it Had to open King Tut's tomb up in my imagination Had to separate fear from respect and admiration Get rid of your fears Time to remove doubts and Think about it, there's two sculptors named Gutzon and Lincoln Who carved dead president heads Who got paid dead president heads by the president To move a mountain Uh, contemporary art deco We keep the shit rockin' like the dails of Art Basel Stompin' through this hip-hop shit like it's our step show We survive We should have bar mitzvahs for these bars We the gods We should shoot bar missiles with these bars Beat the odds, look at the car see the rides Don't be surprised, just realize We ain't runnin' for president So, we ain't worth shit unless we alive
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