Fuck a Hook

[Intro: Royce Da 5'9"] DJs and MCs! Comin' up next is the incredible! We takin' it back to the beats and the rhymes! [Verse 1] 5'9" is back, about to make a nigga spin on his back Not on a cardboard, on the ground with people surroundin' Lookin' down at him; lookin' astounded Ready to draw 'round him an outline of his body in chalk form This nigga here let the trigger talk for him His niggas'll bark for him, for real, his heart's warm So you've been warned I don't even need to be drunk forever, the liquor is rootin' me on (go, go, go, go, go!) I turn tables fast as Jam Master Jay do I'm N.W.A., I choke hoes like Dre Poke holes in the pavement, throw foes in the grave If you could choose between a broke nose or the AK I make movies like Cube 'cept I use hammers Yep! I shoot but I don't do it with cameras (Nope!) So you can call me Malcolm You can all witness what I be doin' to all of these rappers (yes!) With y'all sloppy tactics; don't try to copycat me If you ain't tryna box me back And watch your back, don't take another look into the eyes Of a nigga that's willin' to ride 'til he blind [Hook] (Fuck a hook... fuck a hook...) Chka-chka-chka, Royce... 5... 9! Yeah, and it's on (Fuck a hook... fuck a hook... fuck a hook...) Chk-chka-chka-chka I will rhyme all day, yes! [Verse 2] I'll show you the back of your brain Slap you with the back of the gun Clap you when the rappin' is done I aim to hit, I pack MACs, accurate ones Change the clip, I send rappers back where they from Changin' fast, the game I ask is not a sport I'm tired of bein' a fuckin' day late and a dollar short And I'm back! All of you rap niggas hide your mics I'm ridin', dyin', and I ain't flyin' by on them bikes I'm walkin', talkin', you eye me you dyin' tonight This iron is showin' you the shine designed by Christ And I am the head reaper about the sick shit You about to see dead people without the "Sixth Sense" And yeah, takin' food off my mother's table'll Get you killed regardless like my brother's label My heart and arteries a part of me that'll test the truest We can do it, put your vest into it, yeah [Hook] (Fuck a hook... fuck a hook... fuck a hook...) Chka-chka-chk ("You don't wanna play with him today") Yeah, No! Yeah, hardcore! Rhymes galore! (Oh!) Givin' you what you need! Like I told you before! [Verse 3] Yeah, the rap game is dead, I'm 'bout to breathe life in it Bring it back to when niggas was cypherin' Yeah, back in the day, when nobody needed radio play I was straight long as my radio played tapes And this went on before all of them pay dates We was backflippin' and windmillin' to save face These days, we'll give you the MAC so stay in your place I hope before you lay on your back, you sayin' your grace (pray!) These new cats that rap to me, they groupies You never see 'em in Max Julius or them Guccis Or they woulda got robbed for them Diadores Or the Gazelles, we the store, we take, we sell your Items we took, have you goin' to tell (We crooks) we either goin' pro or goin' to jail I know I'mma spare (many) lives This rap shit is comin' with me, 'cause don't nobody know how to share [Hook] (Fuck a hook... fuck a hook... fuck a hook...) Chka-chka... ("Get in your mind— Get in your mind— Get in your mind all day!")