Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Kings, artist - Jalen Santoy. Album song Words Paint Pictures, in the genre Рэп и хип-хопDate of issue: 23.03.2015
Age restrictions: 18+
Record label: Mello
Song language: English
Kings |
| I hail from Freedom Hill, on my feet, I stand |
| And what used to be Fila’s and Reebok’s, damn |
| I would meet you at the weed spot where we got grams |
| Enough, Doc couldn’t detox, so need I plan |
| To squeeze off, man, if we not fam |
| And let them die for ever trying to calcify my penile gland |
| Yeah, they rap like fajitas but chica’s fan of whose |
| Getting more play like the east side band, ya heard |
| She likes diction, a lot of words |
| Non-fiction, a bad boy pissed and who fly the bird |
| If he’s a Christian, what is this, he got the Earth |
| 93 million miles away, Glock in her purse |
| Ahk' got the nerve, yeah, I know I ought to serve |
| Everybody looking for a fix, if I got the work |
| This is not a curse, chip on my collared shirt |
| Bless manifest my destiny, yep, without the church |
| Amen, whose son is making a living |
| Done chasing the chicken but stashed cake in the kitchen |
| Some hated we kick it, these bums basically sickened |
| Not a part of my body, God, too big for tripping, huh |
| My alibi, tell them I was high when you seen me |
| Resurrect Malcolm X, raise my Kundalini |
| Genocide couldn’t pry me out the black beanie |
| Still tapped the bottle of Moscato, watch the genie |
| Hallelujah, hallelujah, hallelujah |
| Praising Gandhi, you gon' have to praise the shooter x4 |
| While YouTube got niggas fooled |
| Fuck the neh-neh, I’m just trying to get a free like |
| Whole lot of followers, a lot less leading |
| When y’all niggas gonna realize you can’t hashtag freedom |
| Hashtag free my nigga when you know he did it |
| Make us like ignorant, and his business |
| As a culture, now we back where we started, all over |
| While niggas in the club predict rain like Al Roker |
| I’m just trying to get us on track like locomotives |
| Touch your soul, like what’s the motive |
| I just hope you remain focused on what the goal is |
| God body, young Marcus Garvey, my mama said |
| Hood’s prophet, I’m hood’s topic |
| 2 years later, I still got it, fuck the street cred |
| In the '86 Cutlass bumping Jeezy |
| Holler at your boy if you ever need me |
| Cause I’m gone, maybe off the liquor |
| Or maybe in the '86 Caprice with a lift kit |
| Either way it goes, I’m lifted |
| While niggas iced out to the T like they Lipton |
| Dumbing down their lyrics just to get some recognition |
| I’ll be in the booth like Craig Mack kicking flavor in your system |
| Uh, or better yet, your eardrum |
| Fuck the metaphors, hope the truth make you listen |
| Hallelujah, hallelujah, hallelujah |
| Praising Gandhi, you gon' have to praise the shooter |
| So hallelujah, hallelujah, hallelujah |
| Praising Gandhi, you gon' have to praise the shooter |
| If it’s to being self to me, I think I figure that |
| Most y’all started rapping cause you thought that’s where the figures at |
| Try to change the game like Three 6 before the Oscars |
| Knowing I’m popping and keep it going, no show-stopping |
| I’m more like Vlade in LA, you know, without the flopping |
| Been in game but it’s all the same, still point dropping |
| In the view of the mind and hit up Lauryn, get it popping |
| It’s crazy, she used to stop and never stay and leave you talking |
| Topics I’m okay with sharing now |
| Before they didn’t think about it, guess who’s caring now |
| Because their favorite rapper been slacking, I’ll go and then put a track in |
| Demolish y’all polished flows that was keeping their fans attracted |
| And I dig, don’t speak on it, karma keep me repenting |
| Made mistakes and now my plate look like a big pile of spinach |
| Too strong, had to move on, the city say I’m due, uh |
| Been at it for some years, we eating free without a coupon |
| Y’all daughter joined like Groupon, been off that shit |
| Suggest you go and get a job and try to catch up quick |
| Dealing with Jasmine last night on some catch up shit |
| She thinking I done changed, I’m young and grown up quick |
| So I split |
| Yeah, it’s that joint that make your head nod |
| Rest in peace, Big Pun, this my terror squad |
| You don’t want me on your songs, it’s the fear of God |
| I remember when they said my verses wasn’t hard |
| Now what’s the motive, I’m trying to cop the Lotus |
| Driving around town, wave my hand like the POTUS |
| Fat boy, larger than life, they all notice |
| When niggas think you on, they lining up to be your soldiers |
| But being broke is like waking up with Folgers |
| Turn the lights on, we watching roaches |
| I swore I wouldn’t change, spent my money on material things |
| Me and my niggas roll tough like we started a gang |
| Fucked a couple broads once, now they calling to hang |
| Dough told me let them be if they don’t call you by name |
| Floor seats, Madison Square, just catching the game |
| When they scared to give you props, they just call you a fuck that |