R.I.P.
…from R O Y A L T Y
[Bun B]
There’s somethin’ inside you
It’s hard to explain
They’re talkin’ about you, boy
But you’re still the same
There’s somethin’ inside you
It’s hard to explain
They’re talkin’ 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’s 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 shōgun
Wu-Tang generator name, watch him smoke one
Talk a lot of shit, but none of ‘em 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
Mercy, somebody show these niggas can’t hurt me
Whoa…
There’s somethin’ inside you
It’s hard to explain
They’re talkin’ about you, boy
But you’re still the same
There’s somethin’ inside you
It’s hard to explain
They’re talkin’ about you, boy
But you’re still the same
