Time Lyrics - Singles - Prhyme

Part 1 - New York City: Nov. 13, 1992[Intro: Royce Da 5'9"] 

Ayo, get Frank the Butcher on the phone. Tell him it's in style to be a lyricist again. Tell him I'm fresh as fuck. Get FILA on the phone. Tell 'em I'm fresh as fuck. Let's collab 

Related 

23 One Hit Wonders You Still Can't Get Out Of Your Head 

Watch Cardi B Joins James Corden For Carpool Karaoke 

Ariana Grande Adds Her Own Verse To "Last Christmas" 

[Verse 1: Royce Da 5'9"] 

All these Larry Hoover comparisons 

They all foolish, they untrue and they too common 

Me? They'll probably mummify me 

With my penis still erect like Tutankhamun 

They say that I'm out of my noodle while I'm freestylin' 

Cause I come off the roof with rhymin' 

Make money very fast, so fast I gotta bury cash 

I'm Nicky Barnes in Barneys 

Wishin' I had 50 arms so I could carry bags 

Ask around, ho, I'm lowkey wacko 

Ask if I'm OG, I answer back like OG Maco 

Niggas askin', "Why'd you did that underground album?" 

I ask, "What you ask for?" 

Matter of fact, so what? My style is art 

I might drop this PRhyme shit, then say, "Fuck an album" 

Start lunchin' and drop a couple cold cuts À la carte 

I got a good life, man, we rich and they're broke 

They get bread, the knot in my pocket the size of Dej Loaf 

We live, we ride, them 850is 

We love to call a pair of FILAs them FILAs 

Photos 

[Interlude] 

Old school, syllables, cadences, wordplay 

Part 2 - New York City: Nov. 13, 2014[Verse 2: Royce Da 5'9"] 

Underground cash, grassroots M6 

White rag roof, the backlash of the fastest rapper's big enough 

To double the size of the asscrack on Shaq Fu 

Truth, spaz rap, sick with it, I spit shit in a class blackbooth 

Head-to-toe clad in a Hazmat suit 

You talk shit on the internet, then you disappear, hashtag poof 

Bad back, gat bust, weird niggas be clapped up 

And smeared all over the fuckin' atmosphere 

And that means everything that you type in all caps must 

Be clear from your laptop, screen, even your atmosfere 

On the road to richs like G Rap 

Except this road is made of golden roses and this is the victory lap 

What I spit is so visually dope 

That when they hear me they image me sober 

But they picture the relapse 

Your favorite rappers's least favorite rapper... 

Wait, I'll elaborate 

I'm the reason why their release date is backed 

[Outro] 

Wait, wait, whoa, please grab my keys, my nigga