R.i.p Lyrics - Royalty - Childish Gambino

Late ass nights come from long days 

Doin' all the right things in the wrong ways 

Doin' all the wrong shit for the right reasons 

Sprinklin' midnight game, call it night seasoning 

Haters get salty give 'em cholesterol 

Trill O.G, mop up the floor with the best of y'all 

Then dry that bitch off with the rest of y'all 

And catch a flight to Rio de Janeiro for la festival 

Yeah, and that's word to fit a baldy 

Ball hard like I see menace out of my Spalding 

And I'll break your face with a no look pass 

Now back to your parking lot pimp with yo little ass 

I use harsh words cause these are hard times 

And trill-ass people, nowadays they're such a hard find 

So it's when I open if I could keep 'em 

And one on the scope, so if they frontin' I can sleep 'em 

Man, my flow is so parabolic 

The energy'll blow you over even if you're Broly 

Goddamn it, now that's one for the Googlers 

That fell asleep on they desk and never step their noogle up 

Takin' lames out never been new to us 

The hardest part of this shit is figurin' which of you to bust 

Then step your weight up like GNC 

And R.I.P. to Chris Luda reppin' CNC 

Straight G 

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There's somethin' inside you 

It's hard to explain 

They're talking about you boy 

But you're still the same 

Rest in peace to them niggas who was dead wrong 

Toni Braxton to them niggas, that's a sad song 

Cry a river Timberlake, the whole industry 

Record the whole album in my living room in Italy 

Niggas who wasn't feelin' me secretly want a handout 

Keep your mouth shut, I can probably help your man out 

Drop a new stack all lames get to steppin' 

Drop a new track all blogs go to heaven 

Kill the web, man these niggas need they hits up 

Kiss her neck, add a dime to the tip cup 

She is not "slut," fuck a dude who says so 

Just because she fuckin' doesn't mean she ain't a lady 

Kill the whole stage, I never needed a mic check 

Semen on my spacebar, fuckin' tired of Skype sex 

Runnin' with a new breed, me and Bun B 

This hip-hop nation, that big country 

Nigga please! We ain't stop for no one 

Wu-Tang Generator name, I'm a sho gun 

Wu-Tang Generator name, watch him smoke one 

Talk a lot of sht, but none of them will approach him 

Gambino got first position, the game is ballet 

So graceful; drive, he don't need a valet 

So angel: fly as I wanna be 

Photos 

Mercy, somebody show these niggas can't hurt me 

Woah 

There's somethin' inside you 

It's hard to explain 

They're talking about you boy 

But you're still the same