Hold the Drums

[Verse 1: Smoke DZA] Kush god, Pete Rock, in your earlobes Had the babyface flow now I let the beard grow Lil' niggas pointing in the streets like, "There he go" Mama had me rockin' bucket hats when I was a year old Yeah though RFC or Dikembe Me I get the rent paid, el presidente Chief executive officer, sensei Fuck the petty shit, fam, got no time to engage On this shit I'm like MJ nigga Your mink's rented, mine's got my name engraved in 'em Come on man, what we talkin' 'bout jeans? You spend all that bread to break her in And I come fuck her for free Fuckin' with me, sucka emcees stay stuck in your seat My homie, trim trees and keep me on repeat I told him roll a thumb Pete this sample so ill that you can hold the drums [Hook: Smoke DZA] Hold the drums This shit so ill that you can hold the drums Hold the drums This shit so ill that you can hold the drums Hold the drums This shit so ill that you can hold the drums Hold the drums This shit so ill that you can hold the drums [Verse 2: Smoke DZA] On second thought, give 'em no air keep 'em neckin' off Flying through the building like a wrecking ball Whose next, who's not? Who shelf, who drop? Did a five city tour, came home, new drop Top of the food chain ox it's therapy O.G. lit, meet Hennessy Feed all my niggas some chicks, good energy They chasing a hit, me I'm chasing the legacy And I ain't talking about the crown, clown I'm talking fifty years from now clown, kids' kids crowd out Inspire the mind of the future, make no mind a maneuver Stay bossed up and not new to this real Everyday we throw rocks at the pen tryna make us some ends But the street game designed for us never to win So they can hold them crumbs Pete this sample is so ill that you can hold the drums [Hook: Smoke DZA] Hold the drums This shit so ill that you can hold the drums Hold the drums This shit so ill that you can hold the drums Hold the drums This shit so ill that you can hold the drums Hold the drums This shit so ill that you can hold the drums [Verse 3: Royce da 5'9"] Uh, my dude, this Pete Rock groove I got TEC-9 Tourette's; call me Mahmoud Abdul-Rauf I toss death down your steps, my nigga I'll get rid of you pricks Answer the man, this right here could get biblical quick By this lyrical originator My kids is so spoiled from keeping them in the illest flavors I should keep 'em in the refrigerator I got bitches'll bust at your wig I got digits and all my competition's looking up at the jig My attitude is cash rules and to each his own Mac shooters dispatched to ya through speaker phones Act foolish then bad news is gon' beat you home We was at risk as teens, too stressed to have a full hairline So I might a Memphis Bleek or LL Cool J hat fished your queen Every breath I breathe is fresh that's Listerine The more that I get over the more of something to over come So I'm gun-totin', I'll hold the pump and I hold the drums [Outro: Smoke DZA] Hold the drums PR please hold the drums My nigga hold the drums This right here is so ill you should hold the drums Hold the drums Hold the drums My nigga hold the drums This right here is so ill you should hold the drums