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[feat. Kid Vishis] [15 seconds fades-in/instrumental] [Police sirens] [Chorus: Royce Da 5'9" {Male Sample} (Kid Vishis)] I - can't - feel you; I want you to {ROCK THAT} (shiiiit!) {ROCK THAT} (shiiiit!) - {ROCK THAT} (shiiiit!) {ROCK THAT} (shiiiit!) - {ROCK THAT} (shiiiit!) {RO-RO-RO-RO-RO-RO-RO-RO...} [scratches] [x2] [Verse 1:] [Royce Da 5'9":] OOHH! - Put up your hands, show me the real you! (real you!) If you don't put your hands up then I'm a kill you. (kill you!) You ain't never been touched; homie, I can't feel you. I don't listen to threats, nigga I can't hear you! (hello?) (hahaha!) [Kid Vishis:] Put up your hands, show me the real you (boo!) You don't put your hands up, - I'm a kill you! (you!) I'm the shit, fool. (fool!) It's the king, prince, too. (too!) I'm the next shit from the I'm Da Shit crew! (crew!) [Royce Da 5'9":] OOHH! - Nigga get cool. - "You're my boy, Blue! Blue, you're my boy! " I'll Chicago, Illinois you! Songtexte[Kid Vishis:] Nigga we'll destroy you! It's a motherfuckin' wrap, when it come to that heat like aluminum foil! [Chorus] [Verse 2:] [Royce Da 5'9":] Idolize-'em, not-a-lot-of-'em, Body-by-them-there's-a-bottle by the fags, she-should-try-to-follow the man With-the-rocks, rocky-as-Colorado standin' on top Of them; toppin' top the opposition, I-ain't-quittin'-'til-Vishis-in-my-position I-drop-this-apocalyptic, you-gotta-be-optimistic; I'm hot, hot, hot, hot! [Kid Vishis:] Let's try this shit again! (again!) Vishis the prince, the topic of the spit this cop nowhere near it, I'm in a win-win position. (yes!) - Could send killers to knock-knock; who is it? (OOHH!) Hard in pot, fall by the end of the visit. (yes) - No henchmen! [Royce Da 5'9":] Six shots the biscuit! (BLOW!) Smackin' on his back like I'm burpin a infant! (boom!) Then nigga put up your hands, show me the real you, Put money on your head and then I'm a bill YOU. Take it out yo' ass in hell; I'm on a ratchet trail And you about to see the Gat derail! - BRAAAT! [Chorus] [Verse 3: {Male Sample}] [Kid Vishis:] OOHH! - Yeah, Vishis and Nickel equipped with pistols; [acapella] Missiles'll hit your tissue sizzle show you and STAY [echoes] [acapella] Like Mystikal! [bottle broke] - Clip to whoever riddle, my mental see you and scratch You tryna scrap to cover up - the fact you CAN'T RAP! [echoes] [Royce Da 5'9":] I - can't - feel you; I want you to {ROCK THAT} Glock that, pop that, shock that! Down to click twooo's. - I'm a spit truuee! Dominant creeew. - I'm the SHIT, fooool! - OOHH! [Kid Vishis:] Put the clip to a actor - CUT! You motherfuckers up when it's action, nigga what?! We don't fight rappers. - We write back at ya; Black Mack, BLAP! Niggaz back snap backwards. - Ooh! [Royce Da 5'9":] Actors, act puss'. - Blow 'em off the atmos-... ... -Fear niggaz should fear on point like a cactus. You pro'bly need to practice. - That's it! - Backflip! Word blacksmith! - Herb active, - DOPE! [echoes] [Chorus] Aus Songtexte Mania