About This Track
"FUBU" is a track by Royce Da 5'9", from the album The Allegory, released 21st February 2020. Full lyrics are available below.
Lyrics
[Verse 1: Conway the Machine] I am that nigga, it's obvious These niggas broke, on their pickpocket, watching us They see the watch and this jewelry we rocking Get sick to they stomach, now they tryna plot on us They know this extendo we got on us Can't name a time when it's not on us Hope they try robbing us So they can go back and tell niggas about all these bullets they got from us I let that blocker unload, I put that pot on the stove, yeah Now these CDs only product that's sold Fans in Berlin going out of control, yeah I fuck a lot of new hoes Penthouse on top of the Lowes, Versace my robe What's in my pocket? A knot I can't fold Make sure my gelato is rolled Uh, I am on a whole 'nother level than you, uh My grandma used to say, "Boy, you got the devil in you" Fuck around, get some metal in you My name ring bells, I could sell out whatever venue [Chorus: Royce da 5'9"] For us, by us For us, by us For us, by us For us, by us (For you) By us (For you) By us (For you) By us [Verse 2: Royce da 5'9"] I'm tired of hearing 'bout what all these rappers'll do First of all, none of y'all could last in the booth I don't know what's faster, your wounds turning black or to blue The media, to slap or to sue Step to a nigga just to step on a nigga Sounds easier to me than counting backwards from two Bring the hood piece, you expect to buy the Benzes Shell catch an iron, you ain't pressured by forensics Half these niggas rhyming transgendered You said it, gotta question how you meant it I transcend, forever monumented Not even Netflix could document it My son got autism from injection by syringes These nerds ain't warriors, we heard the same story and You niggas blowing whistles at Hurricane Dorian Blowing missiles back to the word of vainglorious You sissy Nigga, this is for us, by us Why you put yours up? I'll put up my cup Survivors of systems meant to divide us You only can afford what you could buy five of You a fool in a war with the faint of hearts I'll let the tool encore, take your brain apart I'm at the Louvre on the floor by the hanging art I'm putting numbers on the board like a game of darts Product of every single blood freckled Timberland Buy up every building in the projects to contemporary art deco every tenement My consigliere's Marc Ecko every sentiment Cop a hundred rides, park 'em all in one garage Money on my mind like Rocky thunder thighs Everybody, everybody friends like they from Milan 'Til they in a hole in a lawn like the number nine Long hours of perfecting this, 9-7 shit Spitting seeds left the shells of pistachios on the keys of the Casios as the evidence Bearing my soul, DiCaprio from The Revenant Phantom looking haunted like a hayride Camera on the trunk like the one from my prayers Amethyst a gun, cummerbund child, they lied Glamour chick in front, one of one I say I And you know how I do Put the beef behind me then put your soul behind you like De La Twin white Maybachs Steering wheel wood when I'm floating through the hood like sailors Couldn't be cut like me if you had ten tailors Put the wifey in a black Bent' Bentayga Judge can't exonerate, violate Got a mansion by the lake, got a maid, Consuela I was fly even when I was a damn lie I was flying standby 'cause of how I expand mics Triple threat, bitch, I make the track and write The judge can't give me life, bitch, I am life You a algorithm You niggas everything the culture isn't I don't coach or visit I don't get into the social digits I just smoke distribute Microorganism living my colloquialism
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