Chopping Block

[Verse 1: Royce Da 5'9'']

Rap niggas back on the chopping block

Come out that house, back to yo mom and yo papa spot

Back to the county, back to three hots in a hostel cot

Come out the colossal rocks back to your fossil watch

My life is foul sometimes I wish I could write this down

To keep your wife from screaming out Jesus Christ she can bite the towel

She receiving pipe from the nicest, my mic is Riker's Isle

My mind deep as minin' for diamonds, I raise MacGyver brow

I'm five minutes from perfect timing I'm like the price is down

A highroller, Cairo'ed like I'm Chyna and Tyga child

Mighta fucked one of you silver medalists wifey but

I can't fight you 'cause you might adjust my Midas touch

I can't believe I just sat back and told that lie

I put this Tec back and give you a gold black eye, blaow

If I give a nigga a shiner consider the shit designer

I slaughter militant rhymers, hold up

My nigga Nottz on the beat

Somethin' sneakerheads usually leave in the box on the feet, hold up

That's right, rappers back on the chopping block

Either fact is a Papa Doc's, back to your proper spot

We are not friends, we just connected dot to dot

Stomp you till you feel like you living in Waka Flocka's sock

I could box, that's why niggas opt to not

Money wide in my pocket mocking that Hasim Rahman knot

I philosophize, social stylist, them shits so timeless

This should be fossilized

Y'all just lie, y'all just falsify, y'all should be ostracized

Y'all should not be allowed to run alongside my whip with the ostrich eye

Come out your house without your pride

A coward dies a thousand deaths, tells a thousand lies

You see them lames? Tell 'em that I'm contracted

A killer on a powder high, Game 7, Lebron clapping, I'll have your

Spinal column out of your body right by you and your bodyguard looking like lasagna and cottage fries

Retire or apologize, or die, you looking right in the fire

Tryna be hot as me or tryna see eye to eye

Obviously, honesty's not your policy

[Verse 2: Joell Ortiz]

I'm two seconds from smacking somebody face hard as hell

And I know that he listening

But the way shorty neck is positioning

While she spitting in the hole of my dick

Makes that other pussy not worth it

I put my foot in yo' ass with all my old verses

Its like my sole purpose is giving my soul's purpose

I don't start but I finish you with a earth nap

E'rbody I turned into ashes, believe they earned that

Skip rap, let's talk real people

To this day I die laughing with niggas who really kill people

Mask, gloves, and empties that would conceal diesel

Black snub that empty until they seal-freeze you

Dice game with the re-up

In lobbies where they never mopped the pee up

Turn that M.O.P. up

Every night mom's praying that they ain't mopping me up

I'm up top getting mop from Mia, mama mia

Now as far as the bars varying, I'm barbarian

He-Man, Hanna-Barbera action figure

Arms stiffer than Shawn Marion when he ball-carrying

Oh man, we in slaughter mode, Paul Rosenberg, pallbearers and Em

Who'd be left if the social media era died?

Shit, I blew checks before I was verified

I know the Dre that did beats before the Dre that did Beats

Bloggers'll beat on my meat if Detox leak

[Verse 3: KXNG CROOKED]

Rap niggas back on the chopping block

Kill 'em before they body rot

I use they bodyparts to paint a Basquiat

Really I'm saving you, your label's raping you

Transforming your anus like an Autobot

Assfucking a Cosmonaut

You prolly like it but keeping it lowkey, bottom lock

You hit rock bottom and go get your bottom rocked

I'm just tryna stop you like my father was tryna stop me

Then his condom popped

Crooked was born to defeat the odds a lot

I really don't understand why these imposters are popular

I'm confused like seeing my Jewish homie rocking a swastika

During Hanukkah 'stead of rocking his yamulka

While Stevie Wonder gawking at Rihanna's exotic, erotic body through the wrong side of some top dollar binoculars

It's obvious, somebody gotta be mocking us

None given, I'm out of fucks, uh

I been on another level since I came into the industry

Still the illest spitting, getting rid of powder puffs

You coward are out of luck, you Howards know how to duck

40 caliber loud as fuck, for now it's tucked

What? Rap niggas back on the chopping block

Give this bitch the biz, Markie, I beatbox a lot

She just want a confidant, her man want a problem? Stop

His days'll be numbered like a calendar, that's the caveat

Any given Thursday you gon' get with the church play

Holy organs, I mean it in the worst way

With the llama I'm a farmer, I'm outstanding in my field

My skill is a dead giveaway if you will, now that's wordplay

I'm from the era of gang culture and crack smoke

I rap dope 'cause that was an escape for poor black folk

2Pac told us all America eats its babies

Since I been in a Mercedes my ladies relate to that quote

Upset, veins popping out of her neck, she give me mad throat

She a head doctor minus the lab coat

And when it come to being an incredible spitter, my nigga

I'm Eminem's negative picture, black GOAT

I'm nice, cuz

[Verse 4: Joe Budden]

Yeah, rap niggas back on the chopping block

Same goal when niggas was bumping Scott LaRock

Same goal though niggas swear you shocking, jock

Screaming "What's popping Ak'?" Red beam, cocking shots

With that said, no proceeding, gimme lethal

And it could be onsight before a nigga even see you

That's ride by, dash off and we laugh

I changed up for the future, my mask was off in the past

I heard your album, all sound like filler to me

That's why I'm asking how they iller than me?

It's getting hot, you can feel the degrees

I been as real as could be

Different me, same song, Bryson Tiller agrees

Who you know is an uncharted team parted with lean

And hit parks and bargain a dream and step to the Carter regime

And wash Carhartt jeans, hard as it seem

Was all part of going bored to some bars to barking

Beg for your pardoning, your bothersome bar schemes

Matter fact, who the fuck you know is harder than him?

Say the gang broke up, shit, it wasn't the gang

Fuck a verse, when it's family it just run in your veins

Joey

[Outro: Joe Budden]

It go

Nickle

Happy to be back guys

Crook

Joell