Royce Da 5'9" - Stretch Armstrong Freestyles lyrics

[Royce Da 5'9"] Stretch Stretch.. (Wha**up sup?) I'm tryin to figure out a way to start this rhyme off (Mmm) You ain't got no ideas? (Nah) Aight, I'll start it like this (Aight) Check it, yo {*P. Diddy's "Bad Boy for Life" beat plays*} fu*k, you! (haha) I'm all nuts, no glory You're walkin now but n***a what's the story? You better, duck when I go BOOM, cause s**ers bore me And yeah, I probably hate Tommy Boy as much as Nore do Who the best? Eminem, Jigga or Nas? Cause when it comes lottery time, that spot'll be mines You takin the throne is under the bridge And yeah, you might be +Ready to Die+ but none of you +Big+ So, you've been dared to listen 'til the fiercest rhythm'll spit air condition glitter and wrist cool fu*k doom, I don't age Cut "Boom" up loud and see a mushroom cloud on stage {*explosion*} Do the math, four knuckles'll give you six months And, you n***as is so p**y you make my dick jump (haha) I don't wish to be king, I'll pa** the throne Whatever shines too bright shines half as long I don't kiss hoes, I only put my lips on a cup Pee-wee n***as, go somewhere and piss on your nuts (haha) God gave me this life, and if he decides to envy and give me I'm takin the flow of the century with me Oh, so if you feel insane, and want a war Reality check, you not ready, your soldiers is still in trainin A bunch of hundreds that'll read the menu We run tabs with receipts sayin "To be continued.." And - bully n***as this is your day Meet me at the flagpole so you can hit me in my fists with your face And snitch n***as is common as E-Bay wear Uhh, give the cops more +Alerts+ than DJ Red I got the blood of a dead soldier, on my palms And the scent of yo' b**h lingerin on my fingertips And you n***as is deep, I got a deep barrel that'll blaze So fu*k deep, the deep shall lay in a shallow grave For you deep n***as {*beat switches to Lord Tariq & Peter Gunz' "What's That Sound?"*} Uhh.. {Stretch Armstrong is now in your world..} Yo, I determine what time it's on, I call my n***a Proof Hand him a pint of Limon and turn him loose! I'm tired of you new jacks I'm tired of n***as sayin they bout to blow 'Less you a b**h, I don't care if you bout do that Move back, youngster, the Glock gon' speak Chew up your vest and turn your chest hair to taco meat! The street, continuous to pit, too quick to smash ya Or flash the clip, or give you the picture develop The click clock, six shots blows through another door And it gets hot, this Hip-Hop Quotable tug of war Who did ya n***as beats you b**hes, who made it work? That sh** was {*phwrt!*}, I got harder 2-Way alerts You get toe-up and re-torn; by the walkin bomb That I blow up and re-form, grow up then re-born Told you I'm a star that's gon' live forever Servin life sentence and get out and go to the bar So n***a take BLLAT! I gotta go to the car BLLAT, oh BLLAT! I gotta throw it in 'park' The iron'll wet ya - the Mausberg pump With the buckshots shells'll turn a n***a into Chinese Checkers I don't even start writin 'til I'm on my third 5th That's what you get, when Beatminers meet the Wordsmiths Uhh, every time I go out, I cop somethin new Every time I throw this right hand I knock somethin loose Who the f** think they can see me? Might as well Call the wife and tell her you're not comin home and to take it easy My guns don't shoot, they WOOF! At them sissy-a** n***as type to accidentally shoot they foot Desert Eagle too big for you b**h-a** n***as Soft-a** palms, can't take the kickback n***as And you wonder why they s**in my dick Or why I keep a suitcase with a hundred grand handcuffed to my wrist Or why the watch could possibly make you lose your sight blinkin On the wrist, lookin like halogen hazard lights blinkin Royce 5-9 in this b**h About to sprinkle gunfire on any snitch Now who the f** want it, b**hes? Yeah, uhh, uhh