🎵 187 (Response) // by Royce Da 5'9"

20 Contributors187 (Response) Lyrics A Saigon-diss over 50 Cent’s “Flight 187” beat. [Intro] [Sample] "—day you die—if you're one of the poor ones, you just gotta work hard" [Verse 1] My shit is laid out Fuck that beef shit, that shit is played out Why is it harder for peace over violence? Niggas don't know The Art of War, we roll in silence It always got to be that one nigga that's the loudest That ain't gon' do no poppin' when it's time to be about it Rah-rah-rah-rah, fuck outta here with that shit You puttin' way too much passion into that wack shit Put your dukes down nigga, we come in peace With them AK-47's, we from the streets Calm down, shhhh, you so emotional I know where you're at in your career is such a low for you I understand it, but understand this, my daddy taught me manners So it's foreign to fly off the handle and talk to cameras That shit is lame, lames we don't respect We wonderin' why the fuck you so upset We know the streets'll swallow you, look what that powder do Look at you try to embody what's not really inside of you I promise you, that if you chill now, in 5 years I will not ride through the McDonald's drive thru and bother you I'm here for fries, that's it, chicken nuggets Give me some sweet and sour sauce too and quit your buggin' I'm just above it, I'm too mature for this It ain't smart to go to war for this [Chorus] 'Cause I'm a rider, I'm about that 187 'Cause I'm a rider, I'm about that 187 You not a rider, not about that 187 You not a rider 187, 187, 187, 187 187, 187, 187, 187 [Verse 2] Got the illest flow because I flow it from my soul You said yourself; you got The Greatest Story Never Told These niggas got the balls to say that I can't write no record But them plaques on my wall say that y'all should read the credits R dot Montgomery, ghostwriter, and for the right price? Y'all know the rest, get your dough, biters Y'all goin' left, get your M.O. in check Later with them vendettas, handle your liquor better Let's play some tennis, go back and forth, who winnin'? You will give into a Koch deal away from *finished* Fuck outta here with that, step your bars up Your shit is garbage, what, you tryin' to kick knowledge? Be honest Step your cars up, that little Benz you know is lame I'd rather ride in a remote control Soulja Boy chain I'm so insane, I flow with open flame Note to self: leave him floatin' if he spoke your name That's why I don't bother nobody I catch a body all alone cause I don't ride with nobody Niggas figures been put on Jenny Craig Look what the prison built, you big up top with skinny legs C'mon Johnny Bravo, you fuckin' with the whole Detroit, chill out Them S.O.B.s without the swing, and easy get out I'm quick to stick the clip in, just ask my nigga Crooked Joey Budden got you niggas trippin' [Chorus] 'Cause I'm a rider, I'm about that 187 'Cause I'm a rider, I'm about that 187 You not a rider, not about that 187 You not a rider 187, 187, 187, 187 187, 187, 187, 187 [Outro: Royce Da 5'9" + Sample] I got a muh'fuckin' Gucci beard—with a Prada' mustache A muh'fuckin' Louis Vuitton chest hair I got Vizene tears, nigga, aheheha I got a muh'fuckin' platinum foot—with diamond toenails, nigga, hahahuh Fuck you talkin' 'bout? And you? You got a motherfuckin' dog-butt—with bitch-tits Bar Exam 3, Slaughterhouse I got a muh'fuckin' crib, made out of silicone titties (The most interestin' man in the world!) I got a Coogi bathroom—made out of Biggie Smalls' sweater, nigga I got a specially made Kangol—made out of LL Cool J chapstick, nigga, hahha I'm so interestin', haha You lil' fruit! I got motherfuckin' Cartier pubic-hair! I got remote-control boxers—with—hahahahaha! (The most interestin' man in the world!) "He has amassed an incredibly large de—"