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gov ball - royce da 5'9'' lyrics

[intro: sample & westside gunn]
what the fuck’d i do? diss a whole bunch of pussy -ss rappers?
well tell one of they pussy -ss to link up with me then, man
these niggas, y’all think these niggas tough (boom boom boom boom boom boom boom!)
but i don’t think these niggas real k!llas
i know what’s goin’ on

[verse 1: westside gunn]
ay yo
these rap niggas at the governor ball
i’m baggin’ eight b-lls
spilled perignon on my suede kaws
i had to tell that b-tch, “don’t touch my waves!”
layin’ by the pool, $3k for the shades
100 round drum release five in your brain
when bricks went on sale i was going insane
my shooter said, “lord, you don’t even gotta pay me
i’ma shoot the fuck nigga block up for the fame”
still duckin’ my third felony, i’m on skates
fuck the halfway house, i’d rather wait
three stamps for some noodles and i’m straight
griselda is the illest, no debate

[chorus: royce da 5’9″ & westside gunn & both]
while all these rap niggas at the governor ball
i’m fuckin’ they broads
ay yo, these rap niggas at the governor ball
i’m baggin’ eight b-lls
that nigga had to tell his boo
don’t trust my ways
laying by the pool
$3k for the shades
these rap niggas at the governor ball
i’m baggin’ eight b-lls

[verse 2: conway]
yeah
get you whacked it only cost a band
twenty shots, every bullet in that cartridge land
my shooter been buggin’ since niggas off’ed his man
lil’ dirty nigga, type to piss and don’t wash his hands
pink bape hoodie, feel like the harlem cam
niggas rap good about them bricks
but never bought a gram
flow outta this world
i’m the martian man
everyy shirt sell out in minutes
now that’s a market plan, yeah
if i reach it’s for a weapon
release three in your chest
and in peace you niggas restin’
leave niggas in sections
pieces of you left in the street nigga
i’m more than a street nigga, you guessed it
pussy, i’m never beefin’ on a record
i beat niggas to death
that’ll teach niggas a lesson
machine nigga
free all the real niggas locked i’m a king nigga
one hundred shots in that magazine nigga

[verse 3: royce da 5’9″]
nickel
we taking all comers
caking all summer
they playing basketball
we playing take they ball from ’em
i’m in front of the stove wit’ it
check the score, the rolex is gold
i’m going old lexus hov, sellin’ blow
thuggin’ for a purpose on my pac shit
ugly chain on purpose on my nas shit
they p-ssing around moet bottles, but i don’t gossip
all i do is real nigga shit like a
wiggle and shake to get through my day
and i don’t -ssume
i just been down and diggin’ my crate
and end up on the moon
once you hit a nigga in the eye
they gon’ change though
cause now they know the ribbon in the sky
ain’t no rainbow
i was born physically conflicted with christ
though i’m god sent, i was sent through the light
though i was meant to only exist in the night
there’s only one of me
i can easily imagine runnin’ rap
but i can’t even fathom rap running me
i guess you ‘spect me to wear dress shoes
and be hangin’ with yesjulz
or be wearin’ leather pants with the chaps underneath
lookin’ like half a f-g
bout to have a gl-ss of “flat tummy tea”
tell your wife chill out with the retweets
and the waist trainers, grab a washcloth
follow alicia keys, make her face plainer
she may just stay saner, i may just roll up in the wraith
where she play and just david blaine her

- royce da 59 lyrics

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