Royce Da 5'9" - Weight Scale (Nasty Freestyle) lyrics

[Verse 1: Royce da 5'9"] (Today's agenda) riding with them sodomy sisters Pistol on hip, hip to your pistol, the day I bow down to a b**h will Be the day I throw a bottle at Rihanna inside of a strip club Leave the booth just to leave a tooth floating around inside of your pimp cup What goes around comes around in the form of karma Nah, that's probably just me riding around your town in a Fisker Penning a rhyme equivalent to a winning lottery ticket Uh, fresh off that weight scale Living a crooked heaven on Earth giving them straight hell Kick in the door of them awards, wondering where are we sitting n***as with tight jeans looking like where are they fitting Beware of they writtens, it's parallel to an Arab sitting In the terrorist co*kpit heading for hell's kitchen I talk greasier than Harold's Chicken Don't cross me I leave scales tipping I'm coming (fresh off that weight scale, fresh off that weight scale Fresh off that, fresh off that, fresh off that weight scale) My b**h curvy as a Persian virgin's features She here to serve me, she here to disturb the reaper I keep bank, speak Franklins, word to Aretha I'm fly as a bird and high as the Burj Khalifa I ride with kings, y'all ride with fiends You fraudulent n***as remind me of a ponzi scheme One of y'all n***as probably was cool in school The rest of y'all n***as was clowns, we should call you the Fonzi team I'm hate-prone n***as listen like ain't this about a b**h like it's a Drake song ‘cause my cake long So stay strong ‘cause your b**h giving me cheekbone Like Grace Jones using my dick like a payphone But she ain't getting the call back She getting the ball sack, hitting the jaw just where we parked at Quick as a car jack, I ain't tryna be funny I'm tryna be missionary lying on top of my money I'm coming (fresh off that weight scale) [Verse 2: Crooked I] (Today's agenda) what the f** would I stop for Knowing I need more guap stored in my sock drawer They want an encore when the flow is at mach four King of the jungle no lying, I let the Glock roar And this bulletproof vest is irrelevant I'm telling them look at your melon, I'm nailing a shell in it And the shell is moving right through your melon into your skeleton Then the felon is belling the same pitch the fella was yelling and Police sirens respond to heat firing, I'ma keep firing I'ma flee, I'ma be quiet, I'm a G, I'm a beat tyrant From Long Beach and I'm East Side I oughta, bury you artists like an artifact, serious as a heart attack Dodger hat, slaughter tats, roger that, art of rap That's me, can't believe Ice never thought of that, who the f** brought it back (Fresh off that weight scale, fresh off that weight scale Fresh off that, fresh off that, fresh off that weight scale) Fresh off that weight scale I guess I'm Canibus and Kool Moe Dee, ‘cause it's hard for me to take L's I'm tryna make more cake than a bake sale Tell the jakes I'ma make bail then escape ‘cause I hate jail All these rappers saying they spitting hard raps Before I buy that sh**, show me the Barfax I got a tongue like a sharp axe I got a ton of rhymes flyer than anything launching off tarmacs This is how real it is, when I ghostwrite for n***as I'm speaking through them, I'm really just a ventriloquist A iller lyricst, a hint of ignorance A pinch of militant, a perfect description of what this n***a is Pull out a scale and weigh CDs Then distribute it to the fans ‘til they need me I'm a drug dealer so put out an APB The same sh** that gave these 80's babies ADD [Verse 3: Joell Oritz] (Today's agenda) pyrex sit in the kitchen feeling your eye sweat Gripping your wrist and watching that pie strech Pitching to different n***as for figures, never slipping 5-0 tripping, I dip on them through the projects Dope boy mindset, gotta get this money Apply the same grind to this rhyme sh**, dummy Pick a pad, pick a pen, pick a track, pick a flow, I pick it apart Like a locksmith digging in his nose, sit in the park With the Dre's on, waist gone, heavy to eight long Put brains on pre-K, the shell is a crayon Man, I'm just tryna write, please leave me alone ‘Cause I ain't trying to fight, I'm a different Iron Mike Bite your ear with a syllable, lay a hook that'll finish you Throwing jabs at you little dudes, my opponents get rid of you Hit my corner and listen to Eminem, Crook and Nickel While Joey f**ing the ring girl and this fight is unfixable, uh You rocking with a BQE boy That BBQ's EQ's and BB Kings with D-boyz Today's agenda, flame contenders And have their dame giving brain to they favorite member, yaowa (Fresh off that weight scale) [Verse 4: Joe Budden] (Today's agenda) diary of a mad man Machete Joe Joe you have me, here I am Ain't gotta lie, what you see is what you get, ain't nothing modified Me, I give them the same song, go check with Spotify Don't get the context wrong, I'm the same G Spending old money, y'all swear it was the same G Yeah, these model hoes cute and entertain me And though I let them go to the head, they never change me Far from innocent Your favorite rapper got a head nod before he approached and check my temperament I wake sleepy hollow, should've done a CT scan Go to Colorado right now and watch Batman So my dad think I'm styling, how when I'm everything he'd be if these new d** was out then I owe it to holmes, rolling stone But how I wouldn't let a stone roll, wonder why I'm stone cold Problem child to aggravated adult Got bad cards but I ain't blaming my hand, it's logic I hate j**elry and authority the same So how the f** you think I feel about a chain of command, I'm saying I tell you how you different from I You always hugging the block, I kiss it goodbye Sober, my last drinking game started with truth or dare And ended with me thinking a name So y'all call it out of control, I'm confused when To think that you in something to me is the illusion There's your answer, verbal slash cancer Now the strip club is a basement, I just came in with some dancers House gang, the clan made it Used to be scared of A-Treats, thought the Klan made it Joey the fan favorite Love then hate it both ‘cause I can't fake it And if I did, I would never tell I said that all wrong, y'all would never tell I keep the mind f**ed up for the Jezebel Even if they help make it sh** would never fail b*atch!