Dinner Time - Royce 5'9, Busta Rhymes

Ayo, Royce Da 5'9″

Why you wan' share your food with these niggas?

We don’t share food in the recession

Bite these niggas like you bite the microphone

Living legend inside of a Smith & Wesson sliding out of the barrel

I’m fire, don’t try me 'cause I am hot

Police cars with they sirens come by when I’m rhyming

Saying they got a call that somebody 'round here done fired shots

MAC-11's in order, the flow is like water

Each quote’s a quarter of blow, the chorus is followed by the dot

Goons, goblins and creatures and monsters’ll bounce ya

And beat ya and stomp ya and eat ya

Don’t get swallowed by the block

I pay a shrink every week to basically tell me

«Lay here and speak to me» just to say how psychotic I am not

I’m too fly with the viral and physical copies

Niggas sloppy, look up what you under, I’m what you tryna top

I’m scared and compared to no man

I’m like the big hand on Big Ben

I get in and I’m hitting my numbers 'round the clock

I’m 'bout to give it back to my nigga Bus-a-Bus

And have a seat, it’s convenient I’m already copping a squat

Nowadays when niggas walk around

They start to look like hamburgers and frankfurters

Ayo, Royce Da 5'9″, feed on these mothafuckas, homie, come on

Take him, gut him and take out his organs and smorgasbord him

The more important he is I’m toe-tagging his beat

Turn him to chicken chowder, dip him in some sniffing powder

Season him with gasoline and throw his ass in the grease

Mention my name in a record, I’ma come get you lyrically

Individually, I’ma take it back to the streets

Cannibalistic mentality, rappers hating

Decapitate him, rap 'bout what I naturally happen to be

Flow is superb and you heard us forget it, two verses

Two murders acquitted, personally it’s a wrap, capiche?

Fingers snapping and tapping they feet

Clapping what happened the street

'Bout to happily bring it back to the D

Niggas claiming harder that all of this time

Niggas believe him until I see him and then slap him and see

I ain’t having it, havoc is average to me

War’s normal, only thing I’m having is having a feast

Royce Da 5'9″, you my dog and I’m your dog

Being that I already sicced you on these mothafuckas

It’s your turn to sic me on they ass, let’s go

Every time that I marry the rhyme and the beat

I go hairy and grind in the street, then I’m fucking up everybody

Pulverizing shit like we gorillas and peeling your skin

Like we banana peelers, it’s hazardous if you copy

Don’t you know that I’m one of the coldest, courageous

The boldest contagious, ain’t no one can phase this thing that I do

Well, you know since I report the latest

That niggas can’t fuck with me

'Cause I’m the greatest, my shit is sick like the flu

You see I’m animalistic, the cataclysmic events

That’ll happen whenever I grab the mic and talk

Indeed I’m back and specifically

That I’m hickory-dickory-dock of this rizzy

The diddy bop in my walk

Now I’m the messenger to set the temperature, nigga

Whenever the heat will be needed to hot the block up, I’m saying

I got the Dillinger, Harry Kissinger with the ratchet

The fact is, I’m back with the clack and the click, see I ain’t playing

Why, oh why, oh why?

Royce Da 5'9″, please tell me why

Why the fuck these niggas gon' let us get together and do this shit to 'em?

It’s so fucking unfair, shit is so unfair