Royce da 5'9", Carlos “6 July” Broady - Something's Wrong With Him lyrics
[Royce da 5'9", Carlos “6 July” Broady - Something's Wrong With Him lyrics]
My conference calls with 'Los and Kino
Consists of nigga tone it down
There's way too much killin'
Of course I ignore 'em, a poor man talks
I don't give a fuck if I
Throw my core fans off
Pathetic war done entered my brain
And permanently changed me
Now I'm angry so fuck a metaphor
Fuck Hip-Hop, Hip-Hop sucks! You got
Niggas on top swingin' from 2Pac's nuts!
It's like I could go in the lab
And try to write somethin'
That's nice or bright
But I would be holdin' back
My strength in the dark
Deep-rooted soldier inside my soul
Uncontrollable temper like the Hulk's
My wife don't like my album
It's way too dark for women
She say it sound like I hold grudges
She rather listen to Joe Budden's
No disrespect aight?
But fuck a party now and everybody like
What's wrong witchu nigga? Every
Song you killin'
Every rhyme you spit is violently put
Lethal, but I have no problem
With puttin' this gun down and
Beatin' yo' ass up
I was taught rhyme from the heart
They will feel you
I like the dark, you cut on them lights
I will kill you something's wrong with him
Just like his pops
He don't give a fuck if you like him or not
He's a major problem
I will slap yo' ass in church
And apologize to Jesus later, punk!
Why am I hot and you not
And why is you rich?
And why I ain't got shit
In my pocket but lint?
This ain't rap no mo', this not a flow
This is beef
There's a couple street niggas that got to go
(Blaow) my name is Nickel (Haha)
I'm from the suburbs (yeah)
It's only a ten-minute drive to
Come and get you (yeah)
Tired of you hoes
I will slap snot sideways outta ya nose
Partner! (Partner)
I know we got drama
But I will still show up at your funeral
And hug your ugly-ass momma
Everybody wanna know why the flow is so bad
(Why is you so mad?) Everybody askin'
What's wrong witchu nigga? Every
Song you killin'
Every rhyme you spit is violently put
Lethal, but I have no problem
With puttin' this gun down and
Beatin' yo' ass up
I was taught rhyme from the heart
They will feel you
I like the dark, you cut on them lights
I will kill you something's wrong with him
I'm a natural since I wrote "Black Girl"
I hope that you don't think that
I won't smack yo' bitch
'Cause I will clap her if
She happen to be witchu', when I kill you
You can get ideas, nobody compares you thugs
I will put out the bub on top of yo' head
This 22 rifle be shootin'
Them bouncin' bullets
The enter into your head and
Exit out yo' foot
Ride off as soon as my clip turns
You click and (click click, boom)
Them choppers is lookin' for eyeballs (yeah)
You could bring yo' roughest, toughest thug
That's jealous just tell him to touch me
I will fuck him up! I will knock his ass out
And if I can't beat him I will
Grab my heater and pop his ass!
Fuck yo' life, stripes I will shock yo' hood
And I ain't never dyin', knock on wood
What up 'Los?
What's wrong witchu nigga? Every
Song you killin'
Every rhyme you spit is violently put
Lethal, but I have no problem
With puttin' this gun down and
Beatin' yo' ass up
I was taught rhyme from the heart
They will feel you
I like the dark, you cut on them lights
I will kill you something's wrong with him