[Chorus: Cee-Lo, the 5'9"] Give me a mountain. me a sea Put your mind on wonderland, be what you to be. Wooow Politics. Ha my nigga Politics. Ha my Politics. Ha my Politics. Ha my Politics. Ha my Politics. Ha my Politics. Ha my Politics. Ha my
Da 5'9"] Seven years and countin, I've been For rap problems 'Cause accountant his rap dollars The ice on the sleeve of the white collar Leanin like the Pisa towser, in power Standing on top of the bottom You should pack up now that the dirty glove is me your hat off inside of the mitten when you spittin 'Cause you can get it for whole rap clapped up out you If I get you back up Got you in a morgue sittin in the drawer Niggaz I can't be caught, I can't be call me the anti-core, anti-talk Anti, when it comes to gettin the of hugs That come a fake thug show me a sign of love Who am I to but you would not out of love up if I was washed up like a Tsunami flood I trying to bug But that's why you got to on..
Da 5'9"] Excuse me while I school on how to pay these dues Tell whoever jealous and want to slay me, The game got the old bland of Mercedes blues Everybody fill Jay-Z shoes I call it the Ferrari sniffs, the flu 'Cause y'all sick, already exists, can't be you I y'all niggaz in oh-two that I can't be touched Yo bitch call me sugar dick the candy nuts But ain't shit sweet, get it twisted I'll beat yo ass, I don't wine, I don't need cash I'll a sock in any nigga mouth in any market If he talkin, he a target, walk in his While he drinkin, him 'til he leakin, coughin Remy Martin if I flip my lid, you'd have to toss him in the garbage Is nothin to toughen you out, fuck is you about We you in, I'm cuttin you out
Da 5'9"] Royce five nine is a prophet, in sense of the word Superb finisher, administer like ministers The tall of the low sales of a poet Centuries rolled up in the pen he holds up He holds it to holy grail, when he saw the he was since his flows, the Davinci code decoded chosen, he prays harder But everytime he spot a revolvers inside His bible like, Gregory Heins with the of Harlem Po-po's harder, free-on, we so cold Red like beam be on sight, we got weed green We got a one yay, Celine white, green Your breath, you about five heartbeats away from death you the leon type, so muahh Make you in peace No more records sold, less is me nine, unsigned
[Spoken - Royce] Yeahh, Royce Da 5'9", my Nottz This is a M.I.C and with collaboration and gentleman, I would like to introduce to you, Cee-Lo Green. Let's go
[Royce and Give me a mountain. (Dream my nigga). me a sea (All my niggaz dealin with the politics). Put your on wonderland (I you my nigga). Be what you want to be. (Dream my nigga)
It's my nigga. [repeat 8X]