Beats Keep Callin’ (Freestyle) Royce Da 5'9"

[Part 1: "Bad and Boujee" 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
Ugh, started out like Nas, shoot guns
Heavy is the head with the crown
Slaughterhouse, my mind's two tons
Hardest out like John Q's son (I'm the hardest out)
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 (Y'all just targets now)
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 (This thing of mine)
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
That's 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 (Woo)
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 (Bitch I love 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-ounce 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, play it nice 'cause the drama still flies
Even when you shoot your little Uzi vertical in broad daylight, 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 young'un's
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 if hip-hop would just 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?"