Call it Paranoia. 
YeaEvery day is war. 
Every day, ******z is gon' hate
Gotta move[Royce Da 5'9"]
I'm a walking target
I'm so far from soft, 
I'm probably close to the hardest****** you ever saw, been never thug, never had a problem
And the ******t he never starts, sickest artist there ever was
****** found dead in his house, don't know who did it
Yea, you bet it was me, ******z die at the pavement
I'm wavin a nine out of the window and blazin
Is your house shakinwho's inside ******, it's funeral time ******
They die from straight hits, pride wasted
Cry your face, 
I ain't your suit and your tie
Now look what you made us
Look at the witnesses, all of them look shakin
And alls they seen was the back of a green car with the plate flipped
Look at the news, 
I did it without puttin a hit out own
You homies in chrome, watch that ******[Chorus: Royce]
I got my back, because it's my gat
And my mouth that *
Started the 
War*Lookin around me, got a gun on my lapwhile 
I'm drivin, taking the back routs *
Home*If your headlights is in my rearview
For longer than three lights, and 
I don't know you
I'ma pull over, 
And I might shoot you
You should go around me, and don't look at me'
Till after you pass me, 'cause 
I might blast you ****** *
I'm at war*
I'm Paranoid, always on point
Always holding ******, always sober. 
Call it paranoia[LA the Darkman]
In your bushes, on the side of your house
Waitin to smoke you when come in from hangin out
Friday night, perfect, 
I timed it just right
I know you at the club 'cause your car is nowhere in sight
I'm like the 
DC sniper, 
Mr. MalvoStrategically precise when 
I squeeze the cali-co
You look like a asshole, full of ******t
******z sure to get hit, when my fo-fo spit
Black ******rt, black jeans, black boots, black whip
Black mask, paif of black leather gloves for my grip
I don't need no print, a killer with a plan
Makin sure 
I dont get, gunpowder on my hands
All drama 
I'ma end it, murder game splended
Leavin all crews for the ****** in forensics
I got, two dependants, 
I gotta make it home
Clean get-away, two bullets through your dome
Is locked ******.[Chorus - La the Darkman][Royce Da 5'9" - spoken word]
And that's just how the story goes y'all
Any ****** where 
I'm from already knows
Funny, my homie 'cause said ******z gon' bring you a bowl of soup when you sick
But if you die, then gonna love you later
Think you a ****** statue or some ******t
God bless these streets, 
God bless these streets right now
I'ma just be doing my thing so maybe, you know, 
I could show you how
Don't come lookin for trouble, 'cause you just might find it
Don't stand too close to me, 
I'm always on point, never blinded