"Trouble" lyrics - ROYCE DA 5'9"

(Royce Da 5'9")
Uh, yeah
Royce 5-9, my nigga Bow Tie
My nigga Cee, Six July
Gangsta, what, gangsta, what, uh
Gangsta, niggaz is gangsta

Yo, I'm out here all day
From when you hear the sounds of the car skidding
Then start dickin, gangsta from start to the finish
What's up - never socialable, nigga we too disposable
If I get close to you it's probably to dispose of you quicker
Go 'head, try something live or die by these numbers
I'd rather live paralyzed than to die running, you feel it
Stay out his path, he's chaotic and mad
Pull a K out and blast, and treat every day like his last
I'm just a street nigga rhyming some words
Dabble in the finest of furs, cowboy minus the spurs and saddle
Prefer for battle; most deserved
In highest level in cowboy status is not from herdin cattle
One strange guy, I'm? nuttin like you mayn
Guns all look the same to the un-trained eye
Easy to find, tell me how a gorilla can hide
The realest nigga breathin, ain't no nigga realer alive

(Chorus [2x:] Royce)
Why'all niggaz in trouble (in trouble)
Why'all niggaz in trouble (in trouble).
Why'all niggaz in trouble (in trouble)
Why'all niggaz in trouble, you don't want this

(Bow Tie)
It's the black Elmer Fudd, fuck a mansion and a yacht
I got a project buildin, weed runnin' on the block (c'mon)
A sweet tooth for chronic, shit got me speakin' in ebonics
Killer cracker, respect me for my talent
Sniff 'em out like a bloodhound
Like they bag mills out in Vegas on the Greyhound
I never plead guilty, come to court filthy
Lawyer drunk off Henny, parole violators with me
And still I walk 'cause it's real
Take they ass to trial then they lose a quarter mil', now that's a deal
Filthy rich at his best
Love hell I write, with a 7 on my chest
I come, real street knowledge, boulevard trade school
Paid dues, 'cause niggaz know I honor the rules
Left no clues, X found, case is closed
While you go against the grain, with a plane of fo's
Take that slang to go, with the rubber handle steel
Spit dumb-dums at labels, with a 50-50 deal
Explode to your guts, that part left hollow
Show the world your nuts, I'm the hoodlum role model
To all the competition that'll follow
Just remember damage to the 99th power
No one knows the hour, that the Bow will strike
Took the sword from Hitler, that they stuck in Christ
Now who's nice?... Now who's nice?

(Cee)
Yo, you see the press is too hot (uh-huh) when you rush my flows
I got, three for twenty-five, rhymes flip like blows
What you never heard this voice, it's big Cee from the state
(Where you from nigga?) Where we pimp hustle hard, bang it out for the weight
Eyes wide, 'cause me and my niggaz organize crime
You either get it in the streets, or runnin' from the jail lines
My game's at command, I show the world my status
It's filthy to the death blastin black automatics
You niggaz talk pain, he will catch these shells
Twenty-three hours on lockdown, one out your cell
I know it sounds sick, when you deal in this form
My city, the home where the killers is born
Close capture, East and West, now that you have to
Leave a little room for this Midwest rapture
And there's no endin, to the words I spit
I sacrifice my soul for this filthy rich shit (gangsta shit)

Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah
Why'all niggaz know it's trouble, why'knamsayin?
I got my Detroit niggaz
I got my New York niggaz
I'm a Chi-Town nigga
And it's goin' down for the new millennium motherfuckers!