Royce da 5'9" - Airplanes (Freestyle) lyrics
[Royce da 5'9" - Airplanes Freestyle lyrics]
Since '99 I've been dope in this, focusing
Unfocusing sure as the sun floats
As sure as the sun's smoking
I was the gun-toting-est, my cuz told me
"Don't get demoted
Keep it close to your digit's
You know you get it
You let yourself get too
Close to them chickens" i said, "I disagree
" then I let Superhead lick on me
Stroking the kitten of Kat Stacks
'Bout to turn around and write a
Book about both of them bitches
Next stop, to the top
I done went from A to X-Y
Almost at Z, chilling at a rest stop
My new bitch, call her my PS3 you?
Your bitch pussy, call it my Xbox
Me, I'm the rhyme ruler
Me and Denaun together deadly as
Nas in his prime
You 'bout deadly as a benign tumor
Since '92, been a highly touted
Retarded truth prolly 'bout to Eli
Porter-potty somebody booth
Never sellin' my soul, I'm sellin' my skills
I'm on rap's radar now, Elliott Wilson
Painter of the underground canvas
Even though I can't freelance no more
The underground's famished
Before I settle for less than average
I'll swallow a watermelon
Follow it with a Double-Down sandwich
I swear that God told me
Slaughterhouse would be the second
Time around for me
All eyes on me! I know I'm not the greatest
I go hard
Your boombox is now invaded, Bogart, haha!
Look at me today, eight years ago
I was popular for being hated, Solar!
Nickel Nine's the ruler
God combined with Buddha
Gifted oblongata, prized medulla
Each line's like a computer
Bomb designed by MacGyver
That only can be detonated by MacGruber
I'm thinking if I ain't binge-drinking
Then I ain't living
Somebody told me I'm prolly dying
But I ain't listen
By the time it could harm me
I'll prolly die by a trigger
So I'm only going cold
Turkey right after Thanksgiving
I paint pictures between blank scriptures
Now, just how contradictory is
It that I pray? The name's Royce and I be
Poppin' so much pussy
Dwight Howard look at me sideways
And while the bitches try to
Grab all on my dick
I can't even get my own nigga
To rap on my shit
You form a clique, it should be sacred
I shouldn't say shit 'Cause the truth hurts
Like the bitch that Dre ditched
Nobody loves my niggas like me
Sober or wasted, for you
There's no replacement
I swear that God told me
Slaughterhouse would be the second
Time around for me all eyes on me!
Unfocusing sure as the sun floats
As sure as the sun's smoking
I was the gun-toting-est, my cuz told me
"Don't get demoted
Keep it close to your digit's
You know you get it
You let yourself get too
Close to them chickens" i said, "I disagree
" then I let Superhead lick on me
Stroking the kitten of Kat Stacks
'Bout to turn around and write a
Book about both of them bitches
Next stop, to the top
I done went from A to X-Y
Almost at Z, chilling at a rest stop
My new bitch, call her my PS3 you?
Your bitch pussy, call it my Xbox
Me, I'm the rhyme ruler
Me and Denaun together deadly as
Nas in his prime
You 'bout deadly as a benign tumor
Since '92, been a highly touted
Retarded truth prolly 'bout to Eli
Porter-potty somebody booth
Never sellin' my soul, I'm sellin' my skills
I'm on rap's radar now, Elliott Wilson
Painter of the underground canvas
Even though I can't freelance no more
The underground's famished
Before I settle for less than average
I'll swallow a watermelon
Follow it with a Double-Down sandwich
I swear that God told me
Slaughterhouse would be the second
Time around for me
All eyes on me! I know I'm not the greatest
I go hard
Your boombox is now invaded, Bogart, haha!
Look at me today, eight years ago
I was popular for being hated, Solar!
Nickel Nine's the ruler
God combined with Buddha
Gifted oblongata, prized medulla
Each line's like a computer
Bomb designed by MacGyver
That only can be detonated by MacGruber
I'm thinking if I ain't binge-drinking
Then I ain't living
Somebody told me I'm prolly dying
But I ain't listen
By the time it could harm me
I'll prolly die by a trigger
So I'm only going cold
Turkey right after Thanksgiving
I paint pictures between blank scriptures
Now, just how contradictory is
It that I pray? The name's Royce and I be
Poppin' so much pussy
Dwight Howard look at me sideways
And while the bitches try to
Grab all on my dick
I can't even get my own nigga
To rap on my shit
You form a clique, it should be sacred
I shouldn't say shit 'Cause the truth hurts
Like the bitch that Dre ditched
Nobody loves my niggas like me
Sober or wasted, for you
There's no replacement
I swear that God told me
Slaughterhouse would be the second
Time around for me all eyes on me!