Dogs Don’t Lie [extended version] IDK (Ft. Royce Da 5'9")

[Verse 1: IDK]
I'm up in Harvard, class start in a hour
My niggas is tryna see it, these crackers giving me problems, shit
They might even be black, fucking with ours
Got Listerine for the tongue, they leaving my mouth sour
But hopefully I don't fold
Johnny Dang got me tippin' on four Vogues in rose gold
Two rose, no Rosé, all froze
Why you think I'm red? I'm fucking with Mike Jones
Like, "Who?" IDK, that ain't for "I Don't Know"
I'm heavy in the paint, you only scorin' free-throws
I'm foulin' if I got to, on Fallon wearin' a black suit
My bitch a little model, my other bitch is a masseuse
We'll wake up in the morning, my hands praying to Jesús
But I don't pray the same religion have me in shacklеs
Gemini, one side Hydе, the other Jekyll
So who I am depending on who you were when I met you

[Verse 2: Royce da 5'9"]
I'm God in the flesh, scriptures embody all of the sin
I'm cause and effect, prescription quality Cartier lens
My car is a catch, I'm skidding out in a 'Rari or Benz
I'm hard to impress, I'm scribbling out of a marvelous pen
If y'all cheated death, I'm getting up out of a coffin to win
If y'all getting dressed, I'm dripping up out a faucet in Flint
I charted this jet, I literally might throw caution to wind
Got bars to reflect, my spit is a microcosm to phlegm
If your blueprint ain't come from Hov, then you should copy LeBron's
If you losin' yourself for gold, then that's what got you to bronze
Muhammad Ali, Haile Selassie, Gaddafi, Saddam
The Black man is God, not a goddamn mafia don
If you ever meet B.I.G. in Heaven, nigga, tell him I'm dope
Even shed a tear for Voletta in this letter I wrote
It goes, "Dear Mr. Write-Raps, diss me, I diss you right back
Backpedalin' like Mike Jack hittin' the ice patch"
Ratchet niggas have to buy bags to get they wife back
Laugh at niggas if you buy black to get the whites back
When players turnin' ill and innovators earnin' millions
The denigrated just integrate it then burn the building
The summers turn to killing and sermons become the healing
And prisons filled with niggas determined to turn a villain
She marry you with Little House on the Prairie views
Shit don't work out, she get her a spouse like Terry Crews