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[ar:] |
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[al:] |
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(Intro) |
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Rock, rock, rock on |
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Rock, rock, rock on |
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I'm going to tell you the truth whether you like it or not |
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Can I prove it? |
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Yes |
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Why no more days like those? |
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(Verse 1: Royce Da 5'9") |
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Allow me to put some sense on you ****s |
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Too much success, um, here comes your doom |
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They told you *************s the sky's the limit |
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Then they turn around and tell you that there's footprints on the moon |
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You rise to fame and die, so they can say that you barely won |
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And they keep your masters, your kids become bastards |
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Having to ask executives for their daddy records |
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Sounding like Blind Mellow Jelly son |
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Look in my eyes, you can tell I'm violent |
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I might go diving inside a fine female on the Maldives island |
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I vow to never fail my phonics until I'm real iconic |
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And you can throw me in a cell, I got it |
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I go to jail bout eight, go "oh well" then post bail bout nine-ish |
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I treat that ************* like it's a hotel, check in it then check out it |
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Then tell my *************s, let the rest doubt it |
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These rap *************s bugged out, like divas, they drugged-out thugged-out receivers |
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I meet them at their stash place, heat them |
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Then tell them, they better drag race the ************* away from me |
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Or get their mug shot, like Bieber |
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I catch him at the bus stop, while he reading |
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This .45 will give him the same hollow Lux got |
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I represent, the must haves and whatnots |
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*************s that used to cut class, to touch cash and buck shots |
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(Chorus: Dwele) |
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You should know |
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(But you don't really want nothing) |
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You should know |
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(Talk a bunch of *************t, mother******* stop fronting) |
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You should know |
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(So what you saying yo? |
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Keep playing y'all *************s will burn) |
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You should know |
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(************* the whole world) |
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(Verse 2: Royce Da 5'9") |
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Freedom or jail, clips inserted |
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A baby's being born, same time a man is murdered |
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The beginning and end,you on a block, playing killer with your knife |
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Without a gun you're an option, be cut out for the game |
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Or they're gon play rock, paper, scissors with your life |
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I'm usually more spiritual at night |
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Cause murder's in the air, more like a Pippen Nike |
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Whipping white, the white American kryptonite |
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Living a scripted life, a different kick, a different type |
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Whoever fixing chicken rice, I'll spend the night |
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In the morning go home to my wife, before she try and sell my *************t |
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Ninety nine percent sure, that she gon' try and smell my ************* |
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Thirsty *************s is praying to hell I slip |
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The baddest *******, the last ******* you would've ever imagined |
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Would've had chlamydia, getting dragged to cities |
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City after city, *************s paying cash for the love of ass and ******* |
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(Chorus: Dwele) |
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You should know |
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(But you don't really want nothing) |
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You should know |
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(Talk a bunch of *************t, mother******* stop fronting) |
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You should know |
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(So what you saying yo? |
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Keep playing y'all *************s will burn) |
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You should know |
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(************* the whole world) |
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(Verse 3: Royce Da 5'9") |
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(Pick it up) |
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I don't know why y'all so highly regarded |
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You rhyme like you're borderline mildly retarded |
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I show you what my father done started |
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I rhyme on a god level, the godliest artist |
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Y'all follow artists who target their audience |
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But not me, I target the artist, follow the target |
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Holding a strap, pointing it at sinners |
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And that's when I tell them like Kobe to Shaq, "You lazy and I'm tired of your jogging" |
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Shoot at their feet 'til the dance start,I'm going H.A.M. in the slaughterhouse |
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************* you and your damn charts, and your crowd participation |
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I'm putting a land mine under your stage, had his place raining fan parts |
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And called that *************t crowd precipitation |
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I'm more premier, than my own DJ and Pac's brother |
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I came out of my momma's womb, with a box cutter |
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Lyrical spitting image, that mirrors the birth of Slim |
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None of these rappers can work with me, I work with them |
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(Chorus: Dwele) |
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You should know |
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(But you don't really want nothing) |
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You should know |
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(Talk a bunch of *************t, mother******* stop fronting) |
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You should know |
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(So what you saying yo? |
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Keep playing y'all *************s will burn) |
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You should know |
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(************* the whole world) |
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(Outro) |
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Prhyme! |
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On the vocals |
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You have Detroit's own Dwele |
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Providing the instruments |
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We have |
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The incomparable Adrian Younge |
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And on the wheels of steel |
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DJ Premier |
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Yeah |
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(I say, and I'll say it again |
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I'm not the kind of person who come here to say what you like) |
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I'm going to tell you the truth whether you like it or not |
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Can I prove it? |
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Yes |
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Why no more days like those? |
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You should know~~ |