Royce Da 5'9" - Who Want It? lyrics

[Intro] (Big shout out to The Alchemist) [Verse] I'm the most cold blooded, gold flooded, iced out, star studded Fly like the ghost of who died cause the coke done it Clean like that Maz' that I got in my garage When that 'rati rides up (Ahhhh), you gon' know it's not a Mazda I zone better than you cause I exercise with my hoes But my trigger finger got it's own regimen I'm so sick like Ne-Yo I got my own medicine, I do my own edits C'mon, you know if your crib ain't got no echo, let go you ain't a star I let go and send bullets like petrol into your car Put your stunner shades on fix your eyes to look at me I'm standin but still but yeah my chain is doing the Watusi Why the f** they spend so much on those - why wouldn't we? Plus I'm tired of n***as talking bout what I shouldn't be (yeah) Put the tools to 'em put the magnum in gear Then, sing the blues to 'em let them things cruise through 'em (blao) Believe you me I be squeezing that E-Uey, n***as will bleed Better breathe, you might re su me That's the resume n***a, don't it seem roomy? Don't it read long? Don't my name got a ring to it? Like a ringtone patterned after King Kong Adam Eve, battle rappin, tabernacle theme song That's cause I'm a natural, striking like I'm lightin matches I could west, south, Midwest or bite the Apple Psychopathic, when he on the track it's like it's magic The city on his back just like his jacket (Woooo!) The gats that we pack got extensions attachments Put away your pencils and pens if you rappin You ain't gotta write rhymes you could have 'em all in your head I'll read 'em off the floor when you dead (yeah) Most lyrical I am in a category with none Compare me to who? If it ain't the Notorious One I'm buryin' you Cause squeezing ain't sh**, my guns be speakin to players like Stephan A. Smith And believe me they spit, however you want it I put up them numbers every season that's the reason they sick (keep goin) I don't pop a lot of bologna, the parkin lot I shot up your homie I rocked a lot of Prada, lot of Brioni We only rock shoes once and give 'em to my n***as (uh huh) While you still cleanin yours and stickin your socks in 'em (yeah) Im just a hot n***a, them Glock triggers givin you riga' Broadway and I'm all day like a city slicker You bigger than me I still get you, I'm so shiest' I ghost write if I wanted I could let Diddy dis you (keep goin) Come through your city like the six is a tanker van Have them k**ers show up to the scene like the anchorman And they'll give you the news without the down payment Up comin rapper was slain but he is now famous (uh huh) Etch out you, blow your chest out you Next album no need to know the rest bout you While you in the air k**ed just hoverin there chillin (What you doin?) In the Hilton in Paris f**in with Paris Hilton (Damn!) Your little bro at the podium reading goodbyes I'm getting blowed by a ho in a V Dubai To prove my worth I did my dirt, the most you can do to the ghost is k** my curse The most you can do to me now is steal my work You still can't touch it I'm dope, just feel my verse (keep goin) My artistic thought process is all twisted The raw sh** I thought of came from awe disses (yeah) The object of narcissism the sharp weapon I start guessin 'em all guess that I'm autistic Preach! n***a my speech is reachless, untouchable by any livin creature Any way I'll meet you (yeah), anywhere I'll beet you (yeah) Bed time to headline or anywhere I feature (uh huh) n***as ain't tryin to hit nickel up to do songs (Naw) Last one done it still pissed cause I pooped on him (hahahaha) Made him write his verse over like I looped on him Oh (seven), Royce Da 5'9" n***a who want it?