Sound Off

[Verse 1: Royce da 5'9"] You herbs, we merged, we're an alliance We fight fire with flamethrowers, why would you try us? We a outfit, equivalent to Voltrons That boy Crooked I's equivalent to four arms Joell Ortiz is the body The cannibal-slash-killer: kill you, then eat your body Joe Budden is the pair of legs He run shit, alongside I, the apparent head I am the general, bow now Fuck saluting, I don't really think y'all niggas get it Run up on you with an army, it is on 'til it's done, finished You got a problem with any one of my Slaughters Then y'all niggas can come with us Me and Joey, we a perfect fit, he like startin' shit, I like endin' shit I don't squash the beef, I don't bend a bit It ain't intricate, I'm gon' shoot your stupid ass You choose to laugh, you gon' die smilin, try wildin' I get hostile, then I'm violent I don't make threats, nigga, I promise My style is Stalin mixed with sick lyrics If you hear it, it'll lift your spirit Turn your appearance to a disappearance When I d-d-d-d-d-d-d-d-ding! [Chorus: Royce da 5'9"] I fuck with nothing but gangstas Nothing but hustler niggas, sound off, sound off (Hut!) I fuck with nothing but my clique Nothing but hot shit, follow me, sound off, sound off (Hut!) I fuck with nothing but gangstas Nothing but hustler niggas, sound off, sound off (Hut!) I put my money on my clique Hot shit coming out of the barrel of my fif' [Verse 2: Joell Ortiz] I got a raw flow, and I stay hungry more so Guess that's why I'm the torso I pour sweat when I perform shows What I record goes down as the best But the vets won't let that torch go Y'all can keep it, they got flashlights now, and flamethrowers And I got one on my back right now—"Remain focused" That's what I tell myself now and then Don't wanna go back to that block like where Varejao defends Uh-oh, my stomach growls again I ain't none of you cowards' friends Every human out of my sight before I count to ten (Woo!) One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight I'm hungry like I never ate (Rrrrrr) Set a table up with knives, forks, and spoons I'm 'bout to get a plate All these weak dummies lookin' yummy like a pepper steak Me and these streets'll never separate, we ain't married Yeah, but every time I touch a pen, I sorta set a date I'll devastate your career, look, I'ma demonstrate Let me get a good breath I take before I regulate Okay, bye-bye, you guys Don't try to rhyme 'cause line for line, what I design is mine And my point is: I'm divine and I'm right behind The big guy that shines all the light in mine So my eyes can find a nice dime to grind Come here, girl—toma, toma, take that, take that! [Chorus: Royce da 5'9"] I fuck with nothing but gangstas Nothing but hustler niggas, sound off, sound off (Hut!) I fuck with nothing but my clique Nothing but hot shit, follow me, sound off, sound off (Hut!) I fuck with nothing but gangstas Nothing but hustler niggas, sound off, sound off (Hut!) I put my money on my clique Hot shit coming out of the barrel of my fif' [Verse 3: Crooked I] You rappers chasing popularity by any means, doing silly things Buying too many size 20 skinny jeans The West treat me like I'm really king I'm Pacquiao in the Philippines, illest thing them niggas seen You rappers dressing like you finna sing "Billie Jean" I gotta intervene—fuck you, I'ma intervene You loud-talking wouldn't kill a thing Matter of fact, where's your head, nigga? I got the guillotine Fuck your Hollywood limousine and rented bling I give you three red dots and I call it a triple-beam I'll put your pad on your property, fag Properly rob you and hop in the Jag If you stopping the profit, the Glock'll be popping Your body'll rock a colostomy bag Shot in the abs, moms'll be sad, pops'll be mad, doctor be glad Possibly stopping the plasma dropping Clock running out and the outcome bad Any one of you niggas that fuck with my team Pretty-ass thing with the infrared beam Sleep on that and get killed while you dream Fuck a rap group, Slaughterhouse a machine Slaughterhouse a regime I'm gooned up if you know what I mean Everybody wanna be down with the king N-N-N-N-No-Fly Zone [Chorus: Royce da 5'9"] I fuck with nothing but gangstas Nothing but hustler niggas, sound off, sound off (Hut!) I fuck with nothing but my clique Nothing but hot shit, follow me, sound off, sound off (Hut!) I fuck with nothing but gangstas Nothing but hustler niggas, sound off, sound off (Hut!) I put my money on my clique Hot shit coming out of the barrel of my fif' [Verse 4: Joe Budden] My one goal's to astonish Tell the President, V.P., (You could) notify the Congress They say I'm arrogant, pompous, but I'm honest I tell 'em, "Keep an accomplice away from the accomplished" They still making threats on Your Highness But I tell 'em where I be, they just ignore the compass I think all your mans Play-Doh I don't buy that movie, "Fandango," fans they know that, what! You a soldier to a general, baby steel Got it in the bag, airtight, Navy SEAL Tell lil' dudes, I ain't mad at y'all, college kids like Asher Roth Y'all just trying to put food on the table Well, I'ma just come and try snatch it off If it ain't for me, most young dudes'd be angrily (Whoa, whoa) But anxiously awaiting bankruptcy Wonder what makes lil' motherfuckers think they're the same as me I'm synchronized, you and your mans'll die Learn certain shit you ain't meant to try Got the ground covered with some niggas in disguise Best bet's to attempt to fly Shit's a gang, you down, you in for life Fuck y'all, I ain't gotta generalize Y'all ain't able to write what the pen describes So when he ask what I meant and why, I tell him [Chorus: Royce da 5'9"] I fuck with nothing but gangstas Nothing but hustler niggas, sound off, sound off (Hut!) I fuck with nothing but my clique Nothing but hot shit, follow me, sound off, sound off (Hut!) I fuck with nothing but gangstas Nothing but hustler niggas, sound off, sound off (Hut!) I put my money on my clique Hot shit coming out of the barrel of my fif'