Royce 5-9, Tony TOUCH!
The year is two-thousand
Uhh uhh uhh uhh.. what?
I'm entirely too hard to listen to talk
I get raw and get this clip and draw, send you to Mars
n*ggas with hidden hearts get written off
Find yaself bruh
You barely know what your click is called, cowboy
You wish you could spar with half of a mind
Kill you with half of a line
Without a need to continue the bar
It's a infamous art, not many can spit from the heart
Turnin pens into darts
It's what you call meant for the charts
So rather I'm sayin, "f*ck you," and flippin you off
Man these infinite thoughts in the bank, so enter the vault
My visions assault your sister for description are lost
Every time a n*gga p*ss me off, stick on the wall
So even when the n*gga not lookin he listen and pause
Forget it dog, when I spit at y'all, you sh*t in your drawers
I'm comin at you from e'ry angle
And the sh*t can be very painful
So how you luh that? Scared ain't you..