Loyalty v. Royalty Songtext
von Belly

So, a lot of the vibes, a lot of the spirit, a lot of the attitude is very similar
Which is about calling a spade a spade, you know, like saying what it is
Like somebody can get over on you and steal it
You might not be able to get your bread back, but you don′t have to be quiet about it

Look
I was dead broke, borrowing money
Never got acknowledgment from artists borrowing from me
I don't want the royalties, but when′s the loyalty coming
'Cause the person that you've become is so unbecoming
Who the fuck did you summon (Demons)
I′m mad you had to miss the whole come-up
But you was with me for the cold summers
I was spazzin′ back when Manchin was jackin' Forerunners
Walkin′ round with bolt-cutters for the whole summer


Shit I was on: Adderall, Ritalin, Vyvanse
Felt like Ayatollah in the city that I ran
Whippin' in frying pans, puttin′ fiends on a diet plan
Put a pound of lean on my diaphragm
Five bands just to get you hit like a by stand (errr)
Couldn't snitch if I wanted to, my life is a blur
I got the rifle, tryna′ stifle the urge
I want the same legacy that Michael deserve
Bitch, fuck what you heard

I don't turn it into anything
I just speak on it the way it looks to me (yeah, that's right)
Well, it′s the theater of the absurd, you know
And I′m like fuck, the only way that I could change it
Would be to act serious about something that looks ridiculous

Look (woo)
It's too late now
Who′s the one lookin' two-faced now
My girl got the blue face AP and the screw face down
So I′m skatin' on these bitches like I′m Lupe now
I won't trust you with consignment, told 'em to pay now
Before I gotta put a hollow in your toupee now
Bitch, give me my flowers and my bouquet now (touché)
Every rapper gettin′ soufflé′d now


Every day I smoke a bag of this Kush
I would leave for good and never look back if I could
Yesterday, I made a hit list and stapled it to a map of the woods
Fuckin' crooks, you could never give me back what you took
They had it in for me
Couldn′t stand the thought of me havin' infamy
Two guns, four drums, that′s a tympani
Hollows sing, some hum, that's a symphony
What′s the sense in me tellin' truth if they censor me?

There it is
And a lot of folks who had thought about that said
Gee, yep, you know, right, bingo (I think about that sometimes)
Right, so I don't think that just stretching it to make it funny
I think it′s distressing to make it anything else
There′s so many things to draw from your material