Royce Da 5’9″ – Beats Keep Callin (The Bar Exam 4 Album)

Royce Da 5’9″ – Beats Keep Callin (The Bar Exam 4 Album)

[Part 1: "Bad and Boujee" & "FuckWithMeIKnowYouGotIt" Remix]

[Intro]
Whatever, whatever, whatever
Mr. Porter don’t trust you, I’m gon’ bust you, nigga
That thang pop, pop pop
Whatever, whatever, whatever
(If Young Metro don’t trust you, I’m gon’ shoot you)
Whatever, whatever

[Verse]
This that "your career’s over" flow, for real
This ain’t four-wheelin’, roll with coke, heroin, ‘caine
Bone chilling, cold with no feelings
Bangin dope-dealin-Hov and No-Ceilings Wayne
Started out like Nas, shoot gun, heavy is the head with the crown
Slaughterhouse, my mind’s two tons, hardest out like John Q’s son
And everything you say greasy and made up like a piece of cheesesteak
And everything I say come natural, in this thing of beauty, like Alicia Keys face
How can I be hated in the streets, when I’m on even on my off day
I’m creative when it’s beef, while you throw salt, I’m your baby mama and them new salt bae
I’ll assault they a la carte tray
Molotov through your restaurant window
Mr. Hyde, Dr. Jekyll, Nickel Nine, Ricky Grimes
I’m Sylvester Mindbender
I spark fours, that’ll arch floors
That’ll have whoever acting hardcore
Doing parkour, I’ma dog Porter
Brought the dog for, recording harsh thoughts for the art form
Taking me to your leader is like showing Chuck Norris where a glass door is
While I’m just tryna stay outta jail
Last war I stay strapped for it
Y’all can run while the gats blowing
And if I miss your ass, then I guess you saved by the bell, like Zack Morris
I’m on bando time when I ride through cities
Before my time R.I.P. Bobby Krissy
Or Bobby, Whitney, flow K-Ci, JoJo
Let the Tech N9ne go KC, MO., bro
I don’t stand my ground, I just demolish niggas
Simple you against me you ain’t ridin’ with me
Bitch not only do I kiss and tell, I’m Orlando Brown when I describe them titties
I’m the rubberband man, but I do more than count bands
Fuck sipping 40 ounces, I’m sober out here, fucking hoes like 40 oz Van
Nigga I’m Pusha T doing quiet numbers, getting silent money, I’ll retire from it, I don’t dress loud, I throw the flyness on it
Let the labels talk and Desiigner mumble like Donald Trump
Throwing money hitting everybody and they auntie up
Trying to find someone to come perform for me ‘fore I fuck the whole entire country up
I’m the first one gunnin’, last one runnin’
Too enlightened for a check (yeah)
Any rapper that want it, I’m Wack 100
Invite ’em to a scrap (yeah)
I narrow down shit the Farrakhan way
You can find me anywhere the crime wave
I’m Schwarzenegger, you Sarah Conner
And your favorite rapper act like Eric Andre
Ryan’s still alive, played nice ’cause the drama still flies
Even when you shoot your lil uzi vertical in broad day
Like you still tryna kill God
I’m French kissing with a "bitch you" mentality
Voodoo and como talle vous
While I’m hula hoopin’ dollars for that snarly tooth
My future look like juju in a body suit
When you niggas gon’ admit it?
That I’m better than the youngins, that I’m better than the legends
Never did I dumb it down or did I settle
I’m Rick the Ruler in every different measure
I ain’t just the R, I’m every different letter
I can give your chick eleven inches if she let me get the leverage
I can be president of hip-hop which is let me switch endeavors
And I’m just having an open workout in Heaven, tryna get me a good sweat
I’m Jae Millz looking up at the sky like, "Ayo B.I.G, am I good yet?"

[Part 2: "Lockjaw" Remix]

[Interlude]
When you a fiend for the rhythm and the beats just keep callin’ ya
They keep callin’ ya
They keep callin’ ya

[Chorus]
When it’s hard to understand me ’cause my jaws keeps lockin’
My parents keep callin’, the Lord keeps watchin’
I’m standing on the corner with my boys, beat boxin’
And anywhere I go, all of these whores be jockin’

[Verse 1]
The dogs keep barkin’ at the top dog
They already lost it, nigga, it’s a lost cause
I remember when I had to pawn all my jewelry
Was so embarrassed by the help that no one offered to me
Zoning off the bottle, we only taught to fight back
We only talk survival, walking home, we just might scrap
All we did was write raps, tryna get so drunk
Had to get my sight back, product of the old gun
Made some bad decisions so early on in the process
I had people out to get me, my album wasn’t even out yet
I’m talking ’bout the self-proclaimed "King of Detroit"
I seen some people reaching they dreams, some people destroyed
I seen people die at the hands of the violence of man
Seen people shot out the sky, being fly as they can
Seen ’em split the pie up and Pam sniff her entire two grams
Slipping, now we in your crib to tie up your fam
‘Cause it’s hard to really focus when you’re tryna stack for ya
Lawyers, with those in power tryna blackball ya
It’s hard to find employers like accountants that’s loyal
With those who told ya they adore tryna back-door ya
You ain’t on-point though, one minute, you popping trunks
Next minute, you happy man, next minute, you sloppy drunk
Every January 1st, the ball keeps droppin’
And I’m just celebrating it at the mall, we shoppin’
Celebrating friendships, "Bro" this, "Cuz" that
"Fam" this, borrow that, loyal this, trust that
Comas after comas that were alcohol induced
If I ain’t wake up from ’em, I won’t ask what y’all would do

[Chorus]
When it’s hard to understand me ’cause my jaws keeps lockin’
My parents keep callin’, the Lord keeps watchin’
I’m standing on the corner with my boys, beat boxin’
And anywhere I go, all of these whores be jockin’

[Refrain]
I had to bite down, bite down
A nigga had to bite down, bite down
All I could do was bite down, bite down, down
Bite down, bite down, I had to

[Verse 2]
Hundred yard dash through the hood, talking money runs
Using that money counter, getting rid of them funny ones
You know the ones, too wrinkled to go in them slot machines
Throw ’em on the titty bar floor to lower a thot esteem
You could be the hottest thing and still have the wrong team
Sometimes to see the bigger picture, you need a wider screen
I got the arm out the black beatle, beating the drum
Mannequin challenging whole families, viva la drunk
It’s Nickel Season, the fever’s begun
I’m savage, even though my tat issa knife, I’m keeping a gun
Loaded cartridges, stolen cars with the Lowenharts
Rip the game apart and you are not worthy like Wayne & Garth
By now, my life’s so righteous, I don’t even sleep with groupies
I move like that nigga Spike Lee when he was Mookie
Back in high school, I really clowned
I said I’d do the right thing if Rosie let me ice cube them titties now
But this is realer than movie depictions
What you niggas know ’bout making a move in a beef and truly committin’?
It ain’t no squashing it after you push a certain button
Make sure everything under your lip cut and your shirt is tucked in
Burning your beard away with Magic Shave
COs frisking your pregnant bitch, turning your kids away, thataway
That’ll in a shallow grave, casualty of a cabaret
Daughter calling some wack nigga "daddy" at movie matinees
Even when we deal with Saturdays, my children still know that
I don’t want another man’s cheap-ass ways on my doormat
And anything I do from legal to illegal
I do this shit the ski mask way, like I’m Lil Kodak

[Outro]
When you a fiend for the rhythm and the beats just keep callin’ ya
They keep callin’ ya
They keep callin’ ya

LEAVE A COMMENT

0 comment