Lyrics Royce Da 5’9″ – I Don’t Age
Text:
Product of the dope game
Mama wanted no pain, papa wanted cocaine
Papa smokin’ pot over the pot, over the stove flame
Dollar short from acquirin’ no change
Tolerance high, feel no pain
Cotton mouth with guys who got the code names
I remember nodding’ out, too hot, just watching’ Soul Train
Now I’m yachtin’ out the boat brain
Hunnid thousand dollar gold chain
Wife done got too pricey for a Cadillac
Too icy to be fightin’, too godly for a battle rap
Too nice to be in cyphers, too deep for moderation
Too free for exoneration, and seekin’ validation
Young, black, receivin’ salutations
Product of the dope game
Mama wanted no pain, papa wanted cocaine
Papa smokin’ pot over the pot, over the stove flame
Flier than the sky, I am the pilot of the soul plane
Writer of the ‘pyrus, I was a writer way before fame
All y’alls do is cypher, I came from the bottom From the soil right where the rose came
I’m too private to try to expose lames
And I’m too violent to be ridin’ with those things
I’m too shady to be neutral, these artists try to divide us
If I go Kendrick Lamar, the world gon’ watch the «Control» change
I’m way too vicious to ask for my respect
I’m way too mission for the dissin’, man, listen
Even mindin’ my business I deal with entire
Always on time to collect, like the IRS
Product of the dope game
Violence over dyin’ over war games
Die here and get choked, lames
Die here in the choke chains
Advise you in the full, mane, Siamese, your whole Fram
How can I be washed? I’m havin’ shooter, rifle thoughts
Suicidal thoughts, I should be writin’ these rhymes in the diary of Cobain
Beat him ’till his Bible lost
Beat him ’till he dies and then beat his body ’till we revive ’em
And his po’s came
Where I come from, I tell the jokes and you the joke
Where I come from, I sell the dope, you do the dope
My brethren, I’m not a legend, I’m not a vet
Do not address me as second, I’m the best
You niggas always sleepin’, I’d rather stay woke
They say you are what you eat, but I never ate G.O.A.T
I went from straight poor to shoppin’ malls
And Wraiths blowin’ gray smoke
Dialed in like conference calls
Strapped up like Waco
Playin’ Hov, Friend or Foe
Lost friends like Ross and Rachel
In the road, big bro was a criminal
Give you L’s, gimme O’s
The only thing that look good on paper to me is Benji’s, ho
My sobriety’s been more faithful to me than these hoes
Never compromisin’ my intellect for the Internet
Just send these goals in the rose
How the fuck this nickel-ninin’, Yes Man
When 24/7, I stay in the no
‘Fore I hold a grudge, I take a flight to Paris
‘Fore I spill blood, I drink a pint of theirs
I don’t age
Album
Royce Da 5'9" – The Allegory
