Psycho
Royce da 5′9"
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Lyrics
Mak-Sid, Volume 3
Whoo Kid, what's the 5-9?
Uh, yeah, I call my cannon Poppa
I'm the shit, smell me? You can't mask it
It's not the Phantom of the Opera, the Cannibal of Rap
Knock you out on camera, turn around and play it back
And when animals attack, I'm a psycho
Like no other I am my own shit
The bitch picked up my shot and drank it, so I fuckin' shot the bitch
I'm controllin' lots of shit
I can go from rock 'n' roll to opposite hip-hop and shit
Never miss like Stojaković
Pop up on you, pop you quick, run your pockets, pocket it
Killin' what I'm not feelin', triggers strum like a violin
Can't sire me, tell it bye, welcome to my environment
I'm violent, my rhymes on fire like dyin' firemen
Thirty-two year old pioneer, leave you lyin' if you usin' iron wear
You niggas pink, I am rare
Where they servin' up the drinks, I am there
Take the Copter, water spots will
Show up like somebody saw a fly in it
Anything movin', I want in
Unless it's the skinny jean movement, I want out
I don't need nobody else to ride for me, I roll out
'Fore I shoot, you say, "Remember me?" You wasn't forgot about
I got a pocket full of stones
My niggas'll be on your head for some money
They stay in the prostitutin' zone
I won't let the bully off
Beef with me is like a lock connected to a bra
You'll be naked, can't pull it off
Imagine murderin' your record company for mergin' with
Who gave you a deal 'cause you ain't deserve it
I'm not a rapist, bitch, I'm just a pervert
Crazy dude with a dick full of baby food
Now switch to Gerber, lyrics is murder
Get it? Then put your gun away
I'll whip a pack of yow in the spring, sell it through the summer
You can call me Money May
Your money funny, run away
Take the K off a fake, leave a nigga Dunaway
Get it? I go ballistic on your spirit
That chopper look like somebody put some scissors to your fitted
I've been with this from the beginnin'
If you visual, picture me killin' witnesses if I'm the defendant
I was offended
I rap a lot, but I'm not independent
Drink alcohol a lot, knowin' my only real problem is spendin'
The metaphors and them similes is career-endin'
Your melon soared to infinity's what I intended
Don't get in trouble, you get me pissed and my fist'll hit ya
You hearin' birds and seein' doubles like picture-picture
You hearin' doubles, you heard me say I was sick of sicker
I'm gonna go get the papers, get the papers
Your bitch sucked my Johnny two times
Polish me like a hella shoe shine
Get your shine box, Ryan got a Goodfella coupon
I fit the description of a killer with a ridiculous dick
Why is your bitch so mentally into me? Shit
But she can miss me with the sensitive intimate shit
All I do is poke holes like I be fencin' with chicks
Uh, pitch-black attitude
Before I meet you, I'm naturally mad at you
You have to be that into gratitude
You like livin' life? Then kiss my ass, then you're cool
I'm hot like you're gonna be after you pass me the tool
Don't have to be rappin' at your talent show at your school
To have the full capacity of my faculty clappin' at you
We'll actually give your rap group a casket or two
Never did a movie 'cause I'm too busy actin' a fool