Parks Vallely - Sound Off lyrics
[Verse 1: Royce Da 5'9"] You herbs, we merged, we're an alliance We fight fire with flame-throwers, why would you try us? We a outfit, equivalent to Voltron's That boy Crooked I's equivalent to four arms Joell Ortiz is the body The cannibal slash k**er, k** you then eat your body Joe Budden is the pair of legs He runs sh** alongside I, the apparent head I am the general, bow now f** salutin, I don't really think y'all n***as get it Run up on you with an army, it is on till it's done, finished You got a problem with any one of my Slaughters Then y'all n***as can come wit it Me and Joey, we a perfect fit He likes startin' sh**, I like endin' sh** I don't squash the beef, I don't bend a bit, it ain't intricate I'm gon' shoot yo' stupid a** You choose to laugh, you gon' die smilin Try whilin', I get hostile then I'm violent I don't make threats n***a, I promise My style is Stalin mixed with sick lyrics If you hear it it'll lift your spirit Turn your appearance to a disappearance, d-d-d-d-d-d-d-d (ding) [Chorus: Royce Da 5'9"] I f** with, nothin but gangstas Nothin but hustler n***as, sound off, sound off (HUT!) I f** with, nothin but my clique Nothin but hot sh** follow me, sound off, sound off (HUT!) I f** with, nothin but gangstas Nothin but hustler n***as, sound off, sound off (HUT!) I put my, money on my clique Hot sh**, comin outta the barrel of my fifth {*click-clack, bang*} [Verse 2: Joell Ortiz] I got a raw flow, and I stay hungry more so Guess that's why I'm the torso I pour sweat when I perform shows What I record goes down as the best but the vets won't let that torch go Y'all could keep it, they got flashlights now And flame-throwers, and I got one on my back right now Remain focused, is what I tell myself now and then Don't wanna go back to that block like where Varejao defends Uh-oh (uh-oh) my stomach growls again, I ain't none of you cowards' friends Every human out of my sight, before I count to ten One two three four five six seven eight I'm hungry like I never ate Set a table up with knives, forks and spoons, I'm 'bout to get a plate All these weak dummies lookin' yummy like a pepper steak Me and these streets'll never separate, we ain't married Yeah but every time I touch a pen I sorta set a date I'll devastate your career, look I'mma demonstrate Let me get a good breath I take before I regulate {*inhales*} Okay (okay) bye-bye you guys, don't try to rhyme Cause line for line, what I design, is mine and mines Point is I'm divine And I'm right behind the big guy that shines All the light in mine so my eyes can find a nice dime to grind C'mere girl, toma toma, take that take that [Chorus: Royce Da 5'9"] I f** with, nothin but gangstas Nothin but hustler n***as, sound off, sound off (HUT!) I f** with, nothin but my clique Nothin but hot sh** follow me, sound off, sound off (HUT!) I f** with, nothin but gangstas Nothin but hustler n***as, sound off, sound off (HUT!) I put my, money on my clique Hot sh**, comin outta the barrel of my fifth {*click-clack, bang*} [Verse 3: Crooked I] You rappers chasing popularity by any means doing silly things Buying too many size 20 skinny jeans The West treat me like I'm really king I'm Pacquiao in the Philippines Illest thing them n***as seen You rappers dressing like you finna sing "Billie Jean" I gotta intervene, f** you I'mma intervene You loud talkin' wouldn't k** a thing Matter of fact, where's your head n***a? I got the guillotine f** yo' Hollywood limousine and rented bling I give you three red dots and I call it a triple beam I'll put your pad on your property f*g Properly rob you and hop in the Jag If you stopping the profit the Glock'll be popping Your body'll rock a colostomy bag Shot in the abs, moms'll be sad Pops'll be mad, doctor be glad Possibly stopping the plasma dropping Clock running out and the outcome bad Any one of you n***as that's f**ing with my team Pretty-a** thing with the infra-red beam Sleep on that and get k**ed while you dream f** a rap group, Slaughterhouse a machine Slaughterhouse a regime I'm gooned up if you know what I mean Everybody wanna be down with the king No-no-no-no-no fly zone (no fly zone) [Chorus: Royce Da 5'9"] I f** with, nothin but gangstas Nothin but hustler n***as, sound off, sound off (HUT!) I f** with, nothin but my clique Nothin but hot sh** follow me, sound off, sound off (HUT!) I f** with, nothin but gangstas Nothin but hustler n***as, sound off, sound off (HUT!) I put my, money on my clique Hot sh**, comin outta the barrel of my fifth {*click-clack, bang*} [Verse 4: Joe Budden] My one goal's to astonish Tell the president, V.P. (you could) notify the congress They say I'm arrogant, pompous but I'm honest I tell 'em keep an accomplice away from the accomplished They still making threats on your highness But I tell 'em where I be, they just ignore the compa** I think all your mans' Play-Doh I don't buy that movie "Fandango" Fans they know that what You a soldier to a general, baby steel Got it in the bag, airtight, Navy SEAL Tell lil' dudes I ain't mad at y'all College kids like Asher Roth Y'all just trying to put food on the table Well I'mma just come and try snatch it off If it ain't from me, most young dudes will be angrily But anxiously awaiting bankruptcy Wonder what makes lil' muh'f**ers think they're the same as me I'm synchronized, you and your mens'll die Learn certain sh** you ain't meant to try Got the ground covered with some n***as in disguise Best bet's to attempt to fly sh**'s a gang, you down, you in for life f** y'all I ain't gotta generalize Y'all ain't able to write what the pen describes So when he asked what I meant and why I tell him [Chorus: Royce Da 5'9"] I f** with, nothin but gangstas Nothin but hustler n***as, sound off, sound off (HUT!) I f** with, nothin but my clique Nothin but hot sh** follow me, sound off, sound off (HUT!) I f** with, nothin but gangstas Nothin but hustler n***as, sound off, sound off (HUT!) I put my, money on my clique Hot sh**, comin outta the barrel of my fifth {*click-clack, bang*}