Respect My Gun Lyrics by PRhyme ft. Roc Marciano
[Intro]
I am here to make something perfectly clear
[Verse 1 – Royce da 5’9″]
Competition fell hard ’cause I got real bars like barbarians
Y’all looking like Mel Farr, ball-carrying
While I’m chilling abroad
With a broad that’s Bulgarian
With my d–k in her jaws, giving her heart failure
Licking it down under like living in Australia
With no feelings involved, like Lauryn Hill, killing her soft
I score at will, but when you this fly
It’s either limit the sky or the unlimited fall
Feel like I’m living the life of the infamous, raw criminal
Who’s been spinning inside the mirror in the sky
Suspended in time like the General Zod
Connoisseur of the finest colognes, call me the chemical lord
Pure artist, and it’s for sure, dawg, and-
[Hook/Chorus – Royce da 5’9″]
You ain’t gotta respect me
But you better not disrespect my m———–g gun
[Verse 2 – Royce da 5’9″]
God of the semi-automatic
But your a-s bet’ not call me no semi-god
I’m sipping on Guinness while sitting in the synagogue
Tall-spending, living large
And this to y’all n—-s long-winded
I’m getting in my car and I’m skidding off
Convict of brown bricks and raw
I keep the same down chick around different tours
I tore down s–t before and now the s–t be more
‘Cause now your boy’s sound’s just matured
And your s–t for clowns, CB4
I don’t know, Rihanna, Rita Ora, either/or
It’d be an honor just to be a fly on either wall of these giant divas
Any time you see the dogs, call the hyenas, we at war
[Hook/Chorus – Royce da 5’9″]
You ain’t gotta respect me
But you better not disrespect my m———–g gun
[Verse 3 – Roc Marciano]
Facts, I might air you with gats, dump your body out on Fairfax
Played the trap, laid on the air mat before rap
I had the .44 Mag in the velour bag
Bagging b—–s, had a bickering back and forth
This ain’t badminton
I had to admit, that s–t bad for business
I like ’em bad, I seen your women friend get apprehended
It’s clear as wind that I done mastered this pimping
Hopped out the albino rhino
I don’t buy no clothes with rhinestones
I’m too refined, I’m not common folk
Ferragamo robe, my skin rose gold
I was rocking Moto seven years ago, you n—-s slow
Just dig the hole and don’t be difficult
I keep the .40 Colt for hopes to get me smoked
[Hook/Chorus – Royce da 5’9″]
You ain’t gotta respect me
But you better not disrespect my m———–g gun
[Interlude – DJ Premier]
PRhyme, ride out
[Hook/Chorus – Royce da 5’9″]
You ain’t gotta respect me
But you better not disrespect my m———–g gun
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