Royce da 5'9" - Fuck a Hook lyrics

DJs and MCs!
Comin' up next is the incredible!
We takin' it back to the
Beats and the rhymes!

5'9" is back
About to make a nigga spin on his back
Not on a cardboard
On the ground with people surroundin'
Lookin' down at him lookin' astounded
Ready to draw 'round him an outline
Of his body in chalk form
This nigga here let the trigger talk for him
His niggas'll bark for him, for real
His heart's warm so you've been warned
I don't even need to be drunk forever
The liquor is rootin' me on
(go, go, go, go, go)
I turn tables fast as Jam Master Jay do
I'm NWA, I choke hoes like Dre
Poke holes in the pavement
Throw foes in the grave
If you could choose between a
Broke nose or the AK
I make movies like Cube 'cept I use hammers
Yep! I shoot but I don't do it with cameras
(Nope) So you can call me Malcolm
You can all witness what I be
Doin' to all of these rappers (yes)
With y'all sloppy tactics don't
Try to copycat me
If you ain't tryna box me back
And watch your back
Don't take another look into the eyes
Of a nigga that's willin' to
Ride 'til he blind

(Fuck a hook fuck a hook)
Chka-chka-chka, Royce 5 9! Yeah, and it's on
(Fuck a hook fuck a hook fuck a hook)
Chk-chka-chka-chka
I will rhyme all day, yes!

I'll show you the back of your brain
Slap you with the back of the gun
Clap you when the rappin' is done
I aim to hit, I pack MACs, accurate ones
Change the clip
I send rappers back where they from
Changin' fast, the game I ask is not a sport
I'm tired of bein' a fuckin' day
Late and a dollar short
And I'm back! All of you
Rap niggas hide your mics i'm ridin', dyin'
And I ain't flyin' by on them bikes
I'm walkin', talkin'
You eye me you dyin' tonight
This iron is showin' you the
Shine designed by Christ
And I am the head reaper about the sick shit
You about to see dead people
Without the "Sixth Sense" and yeah
Takin' food off my mother's table'll
Get you killed regardless like
My brother's label
My heart and arteries a part of
Me that'll test the truest
We can do it, put your vest into it, yeah

(Fuck a hook fuck a hook fuck a hook)
Chka-chka-chk
("You don't wanna play with him today")
Yeah, No! Yeah, hardcore! Rhymes galore!
(Oh) Givin' you what you need!
Like I told you before!

Yeah, the rap game is dead
I'm 'bout to breathe life in it
Bring it back to when niggas was cypherin'
Yeah, back in the day
When nobody needed radio play
I was straight long as my radio played tapes
And this went on before all of them pay dates
We was backflippin' and windmillin'
To save face these days
We'll give you the MAC so stay in your place
I hope before you lay on your back
You sayin' your grace (pray)
These new cats that rap to me, they groupies
You never see 'em in Max
Julius or them Guccis
Or they woulda got robbed for them Diadores
Or the Gazelles, we the store, we take
We sell your
Items we took, have you goin' to tell
(We crooks) we either goin' pro
Or goin' to jail
I know I'mma spare (many) lives
This rap shit is comin' with me
'cause don't nobody know how to share

(Fuck a hook fuck a hook fuck a hook)
Chka-chka ("Get in your mind
Get in your mind get in your mind all day!")