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Artist: Royce Da 5'9"
Album:  Tabernacle: Trust the Shooter
Song:   Dead President Heads
Typed by: 

[Intro: Royce]
Uhh, we in here countin dead president heads, uh, yeah
Up in the years it's been up in the mil's, of dead president heads and countin
They put pictures of dead president heads on green long papers
Then went and put dead president heads on mountains
How we ain't gon' make it?
You know what?

[Royce Da 5'9"]
I went from women askin "What's the scent of your fragrance?"
to center of attention, to dinners in Vegas
Then all the way to Japan rackin up yen
Now I'm all the way back, and I'm actin like Dennis in Vegas, stackin up wins
I'm a young black boy, armed, dangerous
To those who wanna come and try to harm or change him
While they livin in anguish, while I'm livin in real nigga harmony
Energy around me blend together like falsetto, tenor and bass
All intelligence is on God level
All memories formed in melodies from the '70s
And all hail to all dinners and plates
And all hail to the cartels, and we out on a yacht
And you know how we know that we are and you not?
Because y'all are lookin at our sails/sales
I'm a motherfuckin one-man army
I'm more R than all, I put the 'R' in ourselves
Uhh, I'm the one they can't generalize
Every time I come through straight, they wave minimize
Why? It's probably cause I gun through they, gay enterprise
Niggaz get crowned quick these days
Street this, best this, king that, we ain't seen that
All we see around your clique is squad cars
Niggaz need to get Crown Vic'ed these days
Stop kickin it, you couldn't fit in my old socks
Let alone my shoes
I'm not a street nigga, I'm just a chip off the old block
I ain't rocked with an entourage since '07
Niggaz dissed Marshall after they copy his whole reference
Like we won't send an actual firin squad to they studio
That'll Basquiat they whole session
A lot of niggaz dope but none concern me though
I got that 'Pac, Big L, Pun eternity flow
I got that blowin that weed, takin that last drag in
and tossed in the infirmary glow
I'll hit your broad in the gall bladder, with this bald dagger
Have her hollerin "Not the knife!"
'Til she havin an orgasm
And all of her juices is haul-assin, down the thighs
God dropped me off in the drop with the crossroads with crossed toes and dotted eyes
I'm not alive, I wasn't born, I got a ride
Uh, get your popcorn, idolize cause I've arrived
This is Cam Newton throwin bullets with the band shootin
This is beat submission from Bas Rutten
This the we-conditioned-to-spaz crew, it's proven
Nigga pay your dues, you're past due here, this cash rules
You're lookin at the wrong paper, this bad news
Relax junior, you still think you're in high school
But you not, but you will be lookin at yo' last new year
Hah, boo-yah; bombs over Baghdad
Compliments since 7 Mile, Fenkell Ave, Cash and Poo Bear
With directions to just go blastin through there
I ain't stressin 'bout none of you poindexters' responses
I ain't tongue wrestlin with no artist unless it's Ashanti
Nigga this, God, Gandhi, Kevlar labcoat
mixed together with leather bathrobes like Piels and Fonzie
Cool science, I'm around lions and giants
You there, Ryan's here
No one can hear you cryin where I'm at, the highest tear/tier
One diss track could tear your whole act up like the Flatbush Zombies
grippin the Mack truck, with Travis Scott, hittin your MacBook
I'm not a pioneer
I'm the last of a dyin prayer
Livin in, forever, ever, ever, ever ever in laughter
And ever since that heffer put me on MediaTakeOut
I ain't fucked a basic bitch since
I got sophisticated bitches comin to my place askin "Is it safe to sit?"
I said, "Only if you have to take a shit"
Country chick named Delores, I let her sit on this Mason dick
Rappers blow up and get to shoutin out designers
I like to thank my notebook, it got me out of the binders
Blacks never had each other's backs
Rappers sayin "All Lives Matter," OK, now we actually spineless
I'm into psychology nowadays, she say she bad
I'll probably brainwash her like Hollywood did Stacey Dash
A lot of guys out slangin for a belt buckle like Pootie Tang
Wada-tah, my damey
5'9" the illest MC of all time right now and all the time
Kneel right in front of me like field sobriety young'n, or fall in line
Uhh, right now I'm piranha dippin in the waters of Flint
with the Slaughters and Em
Come on in dummy, the water's fine
Sniff around, I smell just like money, I ain't hard to find
I'm doin big things
This bitch asked me do I got at least 50 shades, just the other day
I said, "Come here, let me kick game
I got more than 50 shades and just grey is the colorway"
I gave my momma a pic of myself in a big frame
and a card that says "Bitch I'm Rick James" for Mother's Day
Uhh, I just thank the Lord and pray for more
I just lifted the skirt of the devil, I don't really care how you dresser/dress her
Nigga I'm just out here to take the drawers
Make the winner fall on the track, let nature take its course
I'm a product of the old Death Row camp
I ain't a fan of his, he might wanna be standin clear
I come with the +Cannon+, not the cameras, uh, I ain't Shannon Briggs
But let's go champ, let's slow dance
Kill you with the first and give you seven mo', necromance
Best flow versus yo' petrol rants
You gassin, this that new black Bent', blue Aston
This that who dat against who askin, boo-yah again
'99 the Outsidaz told me I wouldn't last, I'm too arrogant
But here I am, two boys, two girls, two eras in
And they over there on pills and heroin
Forks in they careers so that's real embarrassin
If I could just, get you clean through my charities
I might just let you breathe through me vicariously
But then again I might not, cause I don't write sparingly
I'm torn between get along, fight, and "Why can't we?"
Fuck the Stitches approach
If I have to show up, I'm slashin your throat
Your arms are too O.G. Maco to box with O.G. Wacko the GOAT
I'm not a factor, I'm the whole problem, down to subtract for a fraction of folks
Uhh, your favorite artist a diva
I put leaves around the head of the non-believers like drawings of Ceasar
Wake me when the sleepers are done ignorin me bruh
I'll be flyin with a full tank of gas, on ether
If you from the block, watch y'all sons
Watch y'all daughters, cause I saw a murder
Slaughter much as I saw hot sauce and hot dog water
Uh, I came a long way from wishin under the stars
But I ain't come all of this way, just to say I've come this far
Coppin paintbrushes with black cards, there's no limit when it comes to this art
No need for Twitter followers, I dodged prison
I'm the non-equivocal black and at large
Listenin to a Timbaland track in a villa in Calabasas
I'm that same little Cringer and Battle Cat kid
Addict specialty pen and pad scenematics spazzin
Fuckin with a bitch about as bad as my spendin habits
I got nowhere askin "Can I have it?"
All the valuables I have in this world, I had to take it
Had to open King Tut's tomb up, in my imagination
Had to separate fear from respect, then admiration
Get rid of your fears, time to remove doubts and
Think about it, there's two sculptors named Gutzon and Lincoln
who carved dead president heads who got paid dead president heads
by the president, to move a mountain
Uhh, contemporary art deco
We keep the shit rockin like the dials of Art Basel
Stompin through this hip-hop shit like it's our step show, we survive
We should have bar mitzvahs for these bars, we the gods
We should shoot bar missiles with these bars, beat the odds
Look at the car, see the rides
Don't be surprised, just realize
We ain't runnin for president, so we ain't worth shit, 'less we alive