Lyrics We Here - Big Kuntry King

We Here

You know who this is mayne
Big Kuntry King
Uh c’mon
South Cack, North Cack, GA, Tenn-A-Key, Alabama, the whole Florida, the 'Sipp,
Louisiana, Texas
We here
My swag is sauced up
I, is bossed up
Trap is ralled up
Pockets is racked up
Cars they sit up
Flow is flawless
And she know, and he know
Ya’ll nothin' like us
And we here, and we here, and we here, and we here
And uh huh, uh huh, uh huh, yeah
And we here, and we here, and we here, and we here
Uh huh, uh huh, uh huh, yeah
I’m a big dawg, (dawg) yeah real boss, (boss)
Ya’ll best rappers, (what) I’m a real one
I don’t wear ones, (yeah) just Louie V, (yeah)
Antique wife beater wit a white tee, (yeah)
And my big jewels make me look outstandin'
I’m surprised half you wack niggas still standin'
I ain’t even got a album, girls throw me panties, (oohhh)
I’m so hot, you might as well fan me
So up the ante, Grand Hustle a hammit
I’m tap dancin' on niggas like I’m Sammy
Streets only got one phrase for me
God damnit, I’m so arrogant I know ya can’t stand me
I got them bandana shawty’s, (shawty)
Hundred rack homies, (homie)
Goons and the goblins, yeah they kill for me, (yeah)
Plus I’m killin' em, (yeah) game I be killin' it, (yeah)
What these rappers rap about I be really livin' it
Yes I’m illy bitch, so sick, ain’t no healin' this, (what, nah)
Niggas talkin' funny like they full of helium, (aye)
Not even realizin' that I’m the one that’s feedin' them
Million dollar trap that’s me, cocaine rap that’s me
Got it from yo middle man, where he got the work for me
Niggas talkin' shit but I’m the one they cannot see
Ya’ll nothin' like me, a gangsta you’ll never be
You feelin' me, (yeah) well you oughta nigga, (okay)
Cause these rappers change like leaves in autumn nigga, (that's right)
These rappers get soft after every record, (yeah)
While I’m spittin' that soft on every record, (yeah)
They want my residue off of every record, (yeah)
I’m the hardest in the south, I guess I’m sellin' records, (yeah)
And for the record, you need to recognize, I’m the big homie, point, period,
underline
Yes I’m runnin' the court, trappin' like it’s a sport
Still spendin' money in the club but love no whore
Still run clean while you suckas be hatin' boy
Still be the one from the hood that’ll die for
Yeah
Yeah
Yeah
We here, we here, we here, we here
Uh, uh, uh, uh, uh, uh, uh
Yeah
Yeah