Hold the Drums - Royce 5'9, Smoke DZA, Pete Rock

Kush God, Pete Rock, in your earlobes

Had the babyface flow now I let the beard grow

Lil' niggas pointing in the streets like, «There he go»

Mama had me rockin' bucket hats when I was a year old

Yeah though RFC or Dikembe

Me I get the rent paid, el presidente

Chief executive officer, sensei

Fuck the petty shit, fam, got no time to engage

On this shit I’m like MJ nigga

Your mink’s rented, mine’s got my name engraved in 'em

Come on man, what we talkin' 'bout jeans?

You spend all that bread to break her in

And I come fuck her for free

Fuckin' with me, sucka emcees stay stuck in your seat

My homie, trim trees and keep me on repeat

I told him roll a thumb

Pete this sample so ill that you can hold the drums

Hold the drums

This shit so ill that you can hold the drums

Hold the drums

This shit so ill that you can hold the drums

Hold the drums

This shit so ill that you can hold the drums

Hold the drums

This shit so ill that you can hold the drums

On second thought, give 'em no air keep 'em neckin' off

Flying through the building like a wrecking ball

Whose next, who’s not?

Who shelf, who drop?

Did a five city tour, came home, new drop

Top of the food chain ox it’s therapy

O.G.

lit, meet Hennessy

Feed all my niggas some chicks, good energy

They chasing a hit, me I’m chasing the legacy

And I ain’t talking about the crown, clown

I’m talking fifty years from now clown, kids' kids crowd out

Inspire the mind of the future, make no mind a maneuver

Stay bossed up and not new to this real

Everyday we throw rocks at the pen tryna make us some ends

But the street game designed for us never to win

So they can hold them crumbs

Pete this sample is so ill that you can hold the drums

Hold the drums

This shit so ill that you can hold the drums

Hold the drums

This shit so ill that you can hold the drums

Hold the drums

This shit so ill that you can hold the drums

Hold the drums

This shit so ill that you can hold the drums

Uh, my dude, this Pete Rock groove

I got TEC-9 Tourette’s;

call me Mahmoud Abdul-Rauf

I toss death down your steps, my nigga I’ll get rid of you pricks

Answer the man, this right here could get biblical quick

By this lyrical originator

My kids is so spoiled from keeping them in the illest flavors

I should keep 'em in the refrigerator

I got bitches’ll bust at your wig

I got digits and all my competition’s looking up at the jig

My attitude is cash rules and to each his own

Mac shooters dispatched to ya through speaker phones

Act foolish then bad news is gon' beat you home

We was at risk as teens, too stressed to have a full hairline

So I might a Memphis Bleek or LL Cool J hat fished your queen

Every breath I breathe is fresh that’s Listerine

The more that I get over the more of something to over come

So I’m gun-totin', I’ll hold the pump and I hold the drums

Hold the drums

PR please hold the drums

My nigga hold the drums

This right here is so ill you should hold the drums

Hold the drums

Hold the drums

My nigga hold the drums

This right here is so ill you should hold the drums