Royce Da 5'9" - L.A. Leakers Freestyle lyrics

[Royce Da 5'9] Yea, my clique shottas, you ain't f**in' with this roster My b**h a knockout, head to toe like a kick-boxer Don't get boxed up, your chick got her lips co*ked up I pull my dick out of my boxers, then Chris Boshed her Uh, now that my AK's out in the open I put his mind on vacay, I rerouted his focus Uh, now that the ace spade bottle is open I'm tryna ménage with J.K. Rowling and Oprah I'm a soldier, I'm not polite My G, I've got lighters, I don't care about your life I don't need to run the street, I don't need your block They don't call me Royce for nothing, my baby I got Dwight/the white I put you on the asphalt you try to rip my cash off I eat your face past the jaw then season it with bath salts It's Slaughterhouse and the L.A. Leakers That's why you n***as whispering like a Dwele feature [Crooked I] We ain't showin' no mercy n***a Percy Miller, thirsty k**er Ask around, homie I'm ‘bout 'bout it Lost my mind, I'm livin' fine without it Money on the trigger, that's bread on the click f** your wall cause you be dead on your dick Decapitate you like a backwoods savage Come back to my hood with your head on a stick p**y n***as, that's the sh** I don't like 2 Glock 9's at the same damn time Jump off Joe said the n***a don't write On 106 and my n***a ain't lyin' Walk in the booth, get to talking the truth Then I cough in the booth when I draw and I shoot Sawed off introduced, shout out to the group Too raw to compute, soft n***as mute Call for a truce, hop in the coupe Vodka and juice, boss on the loose Little mama's caboose like a ox and a moose Coffed the coupe, I'ma hop in the cooch Toss her a deuce, toss her a deuce Yea, east side repping Long Beach I'm from the east side, yes And my n***as would k** you before I reach for my weapon Beneath my leave Got your 357, pow pow This Slaughterhouse, shady records on my neck I'm cashing out k**ing every beat then a negro exit I guess you could say I'm blacking out [Joell Ortiz] Yaowa! You know who just stepped up in the building, don'tcha? Upside down pig logo on a poster 11 rounds sig and my hip is the holster It will work on your body like a visit to Costa Rica When I leap through your speakers it's a damn blessin' I turned down a**, you and your man stressin' Shorty iron my je-wels while she lickin' my Jimmy Erry' night I reenact an old Cam session Ha, yea we nice enough to brag often We run the lyrics, y'all run the gay swag portion So, y'all stay over there cause if y'all come over here We gonna do a number on you like Chad Johnson I'm into Mags but my dude's into Mag tossin' Fillin' magazines as they vibe and they outsourcing Same dudes who played tag, coughing, it's the same click That would empty out your stomach, that's an a-bortion House Gang now and forever Speak now or forever hold your peace, however If you choose to speak up, choose your next words wisely They could be your last like my pockets in the past Before Marshall and his staff, before Doc and Aftermath Before Rhymes, hard times, not a dollar for the gas Honda with a hundred million miles up on the dash Baby momma and her momma causin' drama for that cash Now I sit up in that madrion and laugh Just like a thong or Teraji, baby boy, I done got up in that a** My sneakers leaned, now I'm moonwalkin' I got it locked cuz I'm cool with them bars like a cool warden Now I'm in parties where you never could come Shots of consecutive rum until my melon is done Now I can't hear the hate from where you yelling it from I'm throwing, roped off, with @bunyan71 I'm in the cool space, off the hood, new place My shorty whipped like I redid the kitchen, she got new plates I just left my son's graduation Bought him new skates And told his a** congratulations Y'all beating off to broads in world star I'm with another broad, getting some head in your girl's car She's just happy to be here I'm just happy that she here You unhappy, like we care I got brand new carpet, she plant her knees there She a pet net, I be planting all my seeds there Mike on the speaker, couple rhymes for the Leaker We run this hands down like I'm tyin' my sneaker Yaowa