Who Want It? Lyrics - The Bar Exam 2 - Royce Da 5'9

Big shout out to The Alchemist) 

I'm the most cold blooded, gold flooded, iced out, star studded 

Fly like the ghost of who died cause the coke done it 

Clean like that Maz' that I got in my garage 

When that 'rati rides up (Ahhhh), you gon' know it's not a Mazda 

I zone better than you cause I exercise with my hoes 

But my trigger finger got it's own regimen 

I'm so sick like Ne-Yo I got my own medicine, I do my own edits 

C'mon, you know if your crib ain't got no echo, let go you ain't a star 

I let go and send bullets like petrol into your car 

Put your stunner shades on fix your eyes to look at me 

I'm standin but still but yeah my chain is doing the Watusi 

Why the fuck they spend so much on those - why wouldn't we? 

Plus I'm tired of niggas talking bout what I shouldn't be (yeah) 

Put the tools to 'em put the magnum in gear 

Then, sing the blues to 'em let them things cruise through 'em (blao) 

Believe you me I be squeezing that E-Uey, niggas will bleed 

Better breathe, you might re su me 

That's the resume nigga, don't it seem roomy? 

Don't it read long? Don't my name got a ring to it? 

Like a ringtone patterned after King Kong 

Adam Eve, battle rappin, tabernacle theme song 

That's cause I'm a natural, striking like I'm lightin matches 

I could west, south, Midwest or bite the Apple 

Psychopathic, when he on the track it's like it's magic 

The city on his back just like his jacket (Woooo!) 

The gats that we pack got extensions attachments 

Put away your pencils and pens if you rappin 

You ain't gotta write rhymes you could have 'em all in your head 

I'll read 'em off the floor when you dead (yeah) 

Most lyrical I am in a category with none 

Compare me to who? If it ain't theNotorious One I'm buryin' you 

Cause squeezing ain't shit, my guns be speakin to players like Stephan A. Smith 

And believe me they spit, however you want it 

I put up them numbers every season that's the reason they sick (keep goin) 

I don't pop a lot of bologna, the parkin lot I shot up your homie 

I rocked a lot of Prada, lot of Brioni 

We only rock shoes once and give 'em to my niggas (uh huh) 

While you still cleanin yours and stickin your socks in 'em (yeah) 

Im just a hot nigga, them Glock triggers givin you riga' 

Broadway and I'm all day like a city slicker 

You bigger than me I still get you, I'm so shiest' 

I ghost write if I wanted I could let Diddy dis you (keep goin) 

Come through your city like the six is a tanker van 

Have them killers show up to the scene like the anchorman 

And they'll give you the news without the down payment 

Up comin rapper was slain but he is now famous (uh huh) 

Etch out you, blow your chest out you 

Next album no need to know the rest bout you 

While you in the air killed just hoverin there chillin (What you doin?) 

In the Hilton in Paris fuckin with Paris Hilton (Damn!) 

Your little bro at the podium reading goodbyes 

I'm getting blowed by a ho in a V Dubai 

To prove my worth I did my dirt, the most you can do to the ghost is kill my curse 

The most you can do to me now is steal my work 

You still can't touch it I'm dope, just feel my verse (keep goin) 

My artistic thought process is all twisted 

The raw shit I thought of came from awe disses (yeah) 

The object of narcissism the sharp weapon 

I start guessin 'em all guess that I'm autistic 

Preach! Nigga my speech is reachless, untouchable by any livin creature 

Any way I'll meet you (yeah), anywhere I'll beet you (yeah) 

Bed time to headline or anywhere I feature (uh huh) 

Niggas ain't tryin to hit nickel up to do songs (Naw) 

Last one done it still pissed cause I pooped on him (hahahaha) 

Made him write his verse over like I looped on him 

Oh (seven), Royce Da 5'9" nigga who want it? 

Related 

Songs You Love If You Love Nerds 

Watch Cardi B Joins James Corden For Carpool Karaoke 

Ariana Grande Adds Her Own Verse To "Last Christmas" 

Nobody! 

(Royce Da 5'9"... It's The Bar Exam... Pay attention) 

Photos