Текст песни Dead President Heads (Royce 5'9) с переводом

We in here counting dead president heads

Up in the years, it’s been up in the mills of dead president heads and counting

They put pictures of dead president heads on green, long papers

Then went and put dead president heads on mountains

How we ain’t gon' make it?

You know what

I went from women asking «what's the scent of your fragrance?» to center of

attention

To dinners in Vegas, then all the way to Japan racking up yen

Now I’m all the way back

And I’m acting like Dennis in Vegas, stacking up wins

I’m a young black boy, armed, dangerous

To those who want to come and try harm or change him

While they’re living in anguish, while I’m living in real nigga harmony

Energy around me blend together like falsettos, tenors, and bass

All intelligence is on God level

All memories formed in melodies from the 70s

And all hail to all dinners and plates

And all hail to the cartels, and we out on a yacht

And you know how we know that we are and you not?

Because y’all are looking at our sales

I’m a motherfucking one-man army

I’m more R than our, I put the 'R' in ourselves

Uh, I’m the one they can’t generalize

Every time I come through straight, their wave minimize

Why? It’s probably ‘cause I gun through they gay enterprise

Niggas get crowned quick these days

Street this, best this, king that, we ain’t seen that

All we see around your clique is squad cars

Niggas need to get crown vicked these days

Stop kicking it, you couldn’t fit in my old socks

Let alone my shoes

I’m not a street nigga, I’m just a chip off the old block

I ain’t rocked with an entourage since ‘07

Niggas dissed Marshall after they copy his whole reference

Like we won’t send an actual firing squad to their studio

That will Basquiat their whole session

A lot of niggas dope, but none concern me though

I got that Pac, Big L, Pun eternity flow

I got that blowing that weed, taking that last drag in

And tossed in the infirmary glow

I’ll hit your broad in the gall bladder with this bald dagger

Have her hollering «not the knife» ‘til she having an orgasm

And all of her juices is haul-assing down the thighs

God dropped me off in the drop with the crossroads with crossed toes and dotted

eyes

I’m not alive, I wasn’t born, I got a ride

Uh, get your popcorn, idolize ‘cause I’ve arrived

This is Cam Newton throwing bullets with the band shooting

This is beat submission from Bas Rutten

This the edition of it’s proven

Nigga, pay your dues, you’re past due here

This cash rules, you’re looking at the wrong paper, this bad news

Relax junior, you still think you’re in high school

But you not, but you will be looking at your last new year

Ha, boo-ya, bombs over Baghdad

Compliments since 7 Mile, Fenkell Ave, Cash and Poo Bear

With directions to just go blasting through there

I ain’t stressing ‘bout none of you poindexter responses

I ain’t tongue wrestling with no artist unless it’s Ashanti

Nigga this, God, Gandhi, Kevlar labcoat

Mixed together with leather bathrobes like Plies and Fonzi

Cool science, I’m around lions and giants

You there, Ryan’s here

No one can hear you crying where I’m at, the highest tier

One diss track could tear your whole act up like the Flatbush Zombies

Gripping the Mac truck with Travis Scott, hitting your Macbook

I’m not a pioneer, I’m the last of a dying prayer

Living in forever, ever, ever, ever, ever in laughter

And ever since that heffer put me on MediaTakeOut

I ain’t fucked a basic bitch since

I got sophisticated bitches coming to my place asking «is it safe to sit?»

I said, «only if you have to take a shit»

Country chick named Delores, I let her sit on this Mason dick

Rappers blew up and get to shouting out designers

I like to thank my notebook, it got me out of the binders

Blacks never had each other’s backs

Rappers saying «All Lives Matter»? Okay, now we’re actually spineless

I’m into psychology nowadays, she say she bad

I’ll probably brainwash her like Hollywood did Stacey Dash

A lot of guys out slanging for a belt buckle like Pootie Tang

Wada-Tah!

5'9″ the illest MC of all time right now and all the time

Kneel right in front of me like feel sobriety, young’n, or fall in line

Uh, right now, I’m piranha dipping in waters of Flint with the Slaughters and Em

Come on in, dummy, the water’s fine

Sniff around, I smell just like money, I ain’t hard to find

I’m doing big things

This bitch asked me do I got at least 50 shades

Just the other day

I said, «come here, let me kick game

I got more than 50 shades and just grey is the colorway»

I gave my momma a pic of myself in a big frame

And a card that says «bitch, I’m Rick James» for Mother’s Day

Uh, I just thank the Lord and pray for more

I just lifted the skirt of the devil

I don’t really care how you’re dress her

Nigga, I’m just out here to take your drawers

Make the winner fall on the track

Let nature take it’s course

I’m a product of the old Death Row camp

I ain’t a fan of his, he might want to be standin' clear

I come with the cannon, not the cameras

I ain’t Shannon Briggs, but let’s go champ

Let’s slow dance

Kill you with the first and give you seven more, necromance

Best flow versus yo petrol rants, you gassin'

This that new black Bent, blue Aston

This that who dat against who askin, who ya again

'99 the Outsidaz told me I wouldn’t last

I’m too arrogant

But here I am, two boys two girls two era’s in

And they over there on pills and heroin

Forks in they careers so that’s real embarrassin'

If I could just get you clean through my charities

I might just let you breathe through me vicariously

But then again, I might not cuz I don’t write sparingly

I’m torn between get along, fight, and why can’t we

Fuck the Stitches approach

If I have to show up, I’m slashin' your throat

Your arms are too O.G. Maco to box with O.G. Wacko the G.O.A.T

I’m not a factor, I’m the whole problem

Down to subtract for a fraction of folks

Your favorite artist a diva

I put leaves around the heads of non-believers like drawings of Ceasar

Wake me when the sleepers are done ignoring me, bruh

I’ll be flying with a full tank of gas on ether

If you from the block, watch y’all sons

Watch y’all daughters, cuz I saw murder

Slaughter much as I saw hot sauce and hot dog water

I came a long way from wishin' under the stars

But I ain’t come all of this way just to say I’ve come this far

Coppin' paintbrushes with black cards

There’s no limit when it comes to this art

No need for twitter followers, I dodged prison

I’m the non-equivocal black and at large

Listenin' to a Timbaland track in a villa in Calabasas

I’m that same little Cringer and Battle Cat kid

Addict specialty pen and pad scenematics spazzin'

Fuckin' wit' a bitch about as bad as my spendin' habits

I got nowhere askin' can I have it

All the valuables I have in this world, I had to take it

Had to open King Tut’s tomb up in my imagination

Had to separate fear from respect and admiration

Get rid of your fears

Time to remove doubts and

Think about it, there’s two sculptors named Gutzon and Lincoln

Who carved dead president heads

Who got paid dead president heads by the president

To move a mountain

Contemporary art deco

We keep the shit rockin' like the dails of Art Basel

Stompin' through this hip-hop shit like it’s our step show

We survive

We should have bar mitzvahs for these bars

We the gods

We should shoot bar missiles with these bars

Beat the odds, look at the car see the rides

Don’t be surprised, just realize

We ain’t runnin' for president

So, we ain’t worth shit

Unless we alive