royce da 59 - soldier lyrics
{“frequency… “}
[royce da 5’9″:]
fresh off the jet from just f-ckin with puff
i’m feelin like the best, n-body – bring it back
fresh off the jet from just f-ckin with puff
i’m feelin like the best, n-body f-ckin 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 he-rs- with the reef on the back
i’m like the gun at the race, son you only get one shot
my alb-m 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 gl-ss eye with a fish in it (haha)
[chorus x2: iyana dean]
i-i think my, n-gg-z is soldiers
i-i think my, b-tches is gangstas
i-i think my, n-gg-z is soldiers
i-i think my, i-i think (hut!)
[royce da 5’9”:]
i get money, i get b-tches, i get bored or – bring it back
i get b-tches, 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’f-cker, no really i f-ck mothers
i chug bottles and p-ss 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 hanc-ck
liquor sto’ close i’m swoopin ’round hittin the second-hand spot
i don’t f-ck 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 sh-t
not your alb-m, 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
c-ck grenade here, think we scared? no way
set yo’ -ss 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 sh-t
whole clique hold heat like a oven mitt
to f-ck with this you want me on wax
so i’m a tax you lil’ local rappers worse than the government
b-st-rd – the closest you n-gg-z been
to a shotgun is in the car front seat p-ssenger
how ’bout you take a trip in the trunk?
ride to the pastor for a casket to hold ya; it’s over!
[chorus]
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