BET Backroom Freestyle

[Intro: DJ Premier] One, two, I go by the name of DJ Premier I got my man Royce da 5'9" And we are known as PRhyme We'll be here to bring it to you live Lyrics, Beats, The Backroom, BET You know how it go Royce, show 'em what time it is, brother [Verse 1: Royce da 5'9"] Slaughterhouse These niggas want to see me running, they know I won't They say misery loves company, no I don't Ain't got no time for you to try on no Manolo Blahnik All I got time to do is go back in time and pose With the unibomber just so that I could go back in time The second time to photobomb it I live by the code of demonic Illuminati Obama Hovanomics, hold up Hurdles in life, I hop in the turbo and roll around them I'm Doug E. Fresh in the flesh, I beatbox I (*beatbox noise*) between the sheets to see the G spot I'm in bed with three naked ladies holding hands I embed with three major labels And I'm ain't talking 'bout wearing clothing brands Underground locomotive man Putting on a global show that no promoter can I philosophize with wise words from learned lessons In my world, mistakes turn into blessing The hate turn to destiny, I'm saying Lord Jesus While the Lord's most gorgeous creatures take turns fucking me I got your baby mama down on all fours When drama coming, I'm all for it If it ain't 'bout the money, please let this be your last question You players can jump if you want, but you half-stepping like Paul George I make niggas invisible in like a day or two That's how the players do it my nigga, they're layers to it Your favorite rapper's up in LIV While I'm on controlled substances, search around my crib for a fuck to give But I couldn't find it My notebook should be made of a wooden binder Cause that's what my albums be sellin' But I don't give a fuck about nothin' but good vagina Long as these niggas call me GOAT If I don't get through to you the call failed Cause I was probably on that Wolf of Wall Street boat, I'm a hard sell Maybe too lyrical for 'em The Lord gave me a choice to either be king or give all Hell I chose the latter like a fireman climbin' up to a charred rail In front of Miley, steerin' a giant wreckin' ball Miss me with your mollies and your Tyrese wisdom I don't connect with y'all and these antics Today you give your life to the game Tomorrow you be posin' in pictures, lookin' like Steve Francis You ain't turnin' up, you're bein' backhanded like Pete Sampras About that, I missed my uncle's funeral to go to South by Southwest You ain't gotta appreciate it, but you better respect the fact That I'm a rapper and nothin' wack done came out my mouth yet PRhyme