Wishin' II (feat. Black Thought)

（Intro: DJ Premier）
PRhyme! Adrian Younge, Royce Da 59', DJ Premier.
This song here was originally supposed to be done with my man Black Thought.
Unfortunately, we lost a great man : Mr. Richard Nichols; R.I.P.
To the legendary Roots crew, hold your head.(We love yall, you know) We all continue on,
thats how lifes supposed to be, and thats how we treat life.
So, one day, Riq gave me a call;
he said 'Yo, that joint you did with Common, yall wanna do a remix of that?'
By the way, shout out to Common.
Congratulations on the Oscar, my nigga. John Legend, big up.
Word, I said, 'yeah, yeah, when yall wanna do that?'
He said, 'yo, Ill come over right now'.
Oh, yeah? Well, step inside the booth.
Yo, Riq, its go time. Wishin: Part II
（Verse 1: Black Thought）
Yo, the voice of the announcer signing off
Salvador, a connoisseur, a hot monologue
Rachmaninoff, livin life not by the law
And Im a product of that Rakim — God, Allah
Forensic files, leaving em disemboweled, 87 style
They chance slimmer than reverend Al or Kevin Liles
Some friends are vile, still be peddlin vials
Off of eleven mile, they wishin you would
You prolly better reconcile
The dark side of to who they rising in prominence
My crowns taller than Suleiman of The Ottomans
Wiser than Solomon, mobilizing the following
They try and give me the Nobel prize for novelists
Peace to cats that rock MAC knowledge knowledges
Hood astrologists,illegal anesthesiologists, yo
El elefante, Bella Fonte
Keep a regimen ready to give em hell if PRhyme say
(Verse 2: Black Thought)
Yo, post traumatic stress, I wear it as a family crest
I murder at its best, words thatll manifest causing cardiac arrest
Budapest to Marrakesh, my slang Bangladesh
My gang's Clarence X, Im life after death, the last Levine X
Lettin every other rapper know they better wear a vest
Im pulling in two hundred thousand for appearances
I wrote a song about it, here it is, yo
The creature feature search a preacher teacher torch
Capture, rupture , rapture, reach her, the preacher
He defeat ya, speak the ether, sneak then creep ya
Say no peace to meet ya, cant nobody get with me
Strong suits from Italy, chill, humility what Im all about, ability, yo
I wish a nigga would bring the hostility though
You know how them boys from Philly be
Im like cyanide, creeping through the air ducts
And I got a foul mouth, tell em kids earmuffs
When I was at school, I was who to steer clear of
Smoking a reefer in the bathroom, sipping Smirnoff
When it came time for the pictures in the yearbook
I was up in Paris like an American werewolf
Years later, yo Im an American hero verse evil like
Deerhoof, if I let the bear woof
They dont recognize me when Im shopping up in Berdgdorf
They just know Im flier than the motherfucking airport
Therefore they say Im a sartorial gear whore, yeah
(Verse 3: Royce Da 59')
Uh, Ascots on the tailor suits
You artists throwing bands on the radio like they made you
Im looking for artists on stage to throw tomatoes to
The way I act you think Im banned from radio, like Trae Tha Truth
I dont really care, nigga, Im getting yen
I've got a C-63, V-Twizzy Benz I'm sitting in
Ion, Ion, Ion give a fuck, any DJ anywhere
Ion, Ion give em as a triple dare, Ill tie him to a swivel chair
Ion give em spins, ha ha, Ion give em grins and count dividends
Ask around by them D-Town niggas thatll leave you with a concert
Full of dead fans and bloody merch
Smoking dope that Celie... That's the color purp
You might wanna study first
Every verse lyrical but nutty first
Every verb and every word is like a speeding bullet
Bout to chop your body in half while its on the way to heaven
Like Kid Cudi shirt, shit could be a hit but its gotta be money first
I rap with a sickness card, Iraq pistol pulling private, shh
(Interlude: Royce Da 59')
Chris, I think I got the Gully curse
(Verse 4: Royce Da 59')
Underground, underrated, yall keep digging for answers, like the route to cancer
I keep turning Preemo beats into chemo treatments, I keep wiggin like a oop to Andrew
Im clumsy when I shoot, oops, I bet your crewll scrambled
I dont write for limelight, I shine the rhyme light down then Ill produce a scandal
Im what your baby moms would do for cameras
Im leaving everything from the marriage to her little cooch in shambles
Your posse even get in my broad way your possell perish
Your possell become the posse up there
Im outlining all of they bodies in chalk, setting fire to em
To the chocolate on top like chocolate eclairs
They outfit and jacket is bail staff
While we in the air, its Yahtzee on Lears
And when we land , we on yatchs saying grazie to the mail staff
Muah, kiss my ass, yall can go to hell fast
Im just ready for whatever hell brings (Focus, man)
Getting closer to that real money like Gayle King (Thats Oprahs friend)
I think of nightmares thatll ruining your dreams
And I just went shopping in China, yeah I flew with the team
Fuck a translator, I speak fluent, cha-ching
Yall holding shit down with that selfie stick
Im fly in some shit out of Harvey Nichols and Selfridges
Even when me and Shady was Abel and Caine
We worked our magic separately like Angel and Blaine
Came into this game with a navy like Baby and Wayne
Now every pair of glasses I have has a crazy insane Jazze Pha gradient frame
The least most amazing vehicle I have is a lease, though
Its a beast 4-80 and change
Yall tryna pick up Bieber and Drake fans
Not me, but Im in the streets though, like a Canadian crane
To elaborate is to annihilate, please dont make me explain
Come get your bitch! Before I make her smile, ha
Fore I perform a bunch of acts onher like Saturday Night Live then take a bow
Like Kenan Thompson, I dont believe in nonsense
I dont got no felonies in my record, I just got a fleeing conscience
Im just out here spending money like Im being sponsored
Im just on my Philly crime shit, my ice cold Jack Frost mind
My black thoughts are my only real accomplice...