Courtesy

(Intro)Yo, where the other one at?
I like this one
Just let it go, Preem
(Verse 1: Royce da 59')
Z06 Vette, grippin, feelin almost there
Listenin to Bon Jovi, rollin 'Livin on a Prayer'
Privy to the gossip thats been said about me constant
Its the life and times of 'Bumpy' Johnson meets 'Nucky' Thompson
I used to rap about death, now Im only concerned to live
I value relationships, still I keep it competitive
Nowadays, chances are that if you see me throw the match
It aint to lose the fight, its to walk away from a burnin bridge
Im from a family of alcoholics and coke addicts
Daddy taught me if the ass is so fat
Its a fact that if you with your ho, dont matter
Its still appropriate to scope at it
Livin life with no balance
Drivin drunk on co-pilot, drivin til I total it
Im tryna stay afloat, but I got nobody to throw a rope at it
The game is just a game of splits and politics wit no ballot
All kind of clips with mo malice than pushin
If you profilin, therell probably be more violence than lookin
Im so stylish, but I aint talkin eBay, no high-end fashion either
If you catch me by the runway its the one thats for the PJ
This one is for my lyricists, courtesy of my DJ
Hook: Royce da 59' & ( Samples)
(I cant control it, cant hold it, its so nuts)
(Hustle hard in any hustle that youpick)
(I, I, I respect that)
I done had a lot of niggas say they wanna hurt me
Somehow, some way they just end up at my mercy
Just show some courtesy
(Hell yeah, nigga, you know, and niggas still got it)
(Believe that shit)
(Verse 2: Royce da 59')
I got killers round the way ready to move that work for me
Niggas wanna ride my wave, bitches wanna surfboard me
All I want is courtesy, who cares bout the radio?
And you could take the cassette deck from off of your old boombox
And it wouldnt matter, theres still squares on your radio
To keep your wealth I learned to stay to yoself
I call for Charl, tell him spray paint a mural in Watts
Of me spray-paintin a mural of Miracle Watts
Shout-out to Michael '5000' Watts
Im on that lean movement like Im out here tryna box
Look, nigga, this is a boss thing, uh
Meanin you gettin the laze dot to your offspring
Im a lost bein, uh
Try to cross me without fallin off, Im afraid not
Im a frayed knot like a draw string
Im preachin to the congregation like Im Peter Popoff
If you can imagine me hopping up out of the cabin
Like Im one of the dukes of Hazzard like, 'Fuck it'
Leave the top off like time for foreplay
That last line that was before your time
Like Big Ben sittin in Beyonce doorway
While Im receivin Four Seasons, Norwegian top in Norway
Listenin to rappers kick knowledge
That they probably got fromTour�
These Michael Eric Dyson niggas claiming they king
Not knowing the kind of drama that that bring
Im a be the first established rapper to hop in that battle rap ring Turn that to Gatlin
My next album gon be so dark and so fly
I should see the package, it wrapped in batwings
These Soul Train Music Award actors rock fake as wrestlin
Dressed bottom to top in leather lookin like bacon in Vaseline
How you looking like beef jerky?
Beefin in every verse, but never beefin in person?
Randy Savage, you wouldnt snap a Slim Jim
You wouldnt rip a wrappin on Christmas in Santas attic
Wit the hands of Eddie Scissors and you average
Put your motherfuckin hands up
My job is to move the crowd, move the motherfuckin crowd
Put your motherfuckin hands up
(Outro)
I respect that(Prhyme!)