Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song King, artist - Bizzle. Album song Crowns & Crosses, in the genre Рэп и хип-хоп
Date of issue: 20.10.2016
Record label: God Over Money
Song language: English
King |
They don’t do it like the KING do, yeah |
Everybody a king, everybody a god huh? |
Alright |
(Chorus: Bizzle) |
Tell ‘em they don’t do it like the KING do, KING do |
Homey ain’t nobody king you, king you simmer down boy |
And get your hands off the crown boy, now boy, Believe me |
They don’t do it like the KING do, KING do |
Homey ain’t nobody king you, king you, simmer down boy |
And get your hands off the crown boy, now boy, Real talk |
(Verse 1: Bizzle) |
Every other day another sucker on a record pushing dirt up on the LORD’S NAME |
More money, more cars, get some more chains |
This is a sure thing, only way that this will go, rich or poor, shove them in |
the box like a board game |
Fools lottery, if you think all that property gon' fit up in that box you play |
way too much Monopoly |
We’re just the clay, HE the POTTER, we the pottery |
If you remove HIS hands then we in bad shape, fall in it |
GOD over money boy, that’s just my philosophy |
As long as I am the realest I’m the richest automatically |
Game full of lies so they hating on my honesty |
But Imma tell the truth till they body me |
(Chorus: Bizzle) |
They don’t do it like the KING do, KING do |
Homey ain’t nobody king you, king you, simmer down boy |
And get your hands off the crown boy, now boy, Believe me |
They don’t do it like the KING do, KING do |
Homey ain’t nobody king you, king you, simmer down boy |
And get your hands off the crown boy, now boy, Real talk |
(Verse 2: Bizzle) |
Killer, killer, killer Mr. Killer, You don’t really want it like you say boy |
Everybody wanna bang when it’s their boy |
Everybody want an issue till the magazine spray and their centre fold, |
they don’t want to play boy |
Bullets hot dawg pipe down, you talking like you trying to die right now |
Truth is if you get shot you gon' cry loud, and every drop of gangster in your |
body gon' dry out |
Everybody wanna pop ‘rugers, we love to brag about it like it’s not foolish |
They hate us cause we try to put a stop to it, then we love to glorify murder |
till a cop do it |
Never been a shooter, that was never me, never disrespected anybody who |
respected me |
Always kept the cool when I knew we was at the deep, 30 on breeze not gangster |
that’s hella weak |
I know you got a strap boy I’m with it too, but I don’t let it change how I get |
at you |
Y’all like 5−0, started for protection, the problem is y’all become bishop when |
you get the juice |
They don’t do it like the KING do, KING do |
Homey ain’t nobody king you, simmer down boy |
And get your hands off the crown boy, now boy, Believe me |
They don’t do it like the KING do, KING do |
Homey ain’t nobody king you, simmer down boy |
And get your hands off the crown boy, now boy, Real talk |
(Verse 3: H.U.R.T) |
So you trapping in your video and killing in them songs |
If you can’t keep HIS word then them lyrics did you wrong |
Cause you sleeping in the ‘burbs, and them visuals is phony |
I know everything you rap about, I did it with my homies |
Get money out the soil huh? |
Something like oil right? |
That don’t make you loyal bruh, you ain’t even loyal cause you from the hood |
But you don’t tell them nothing good, you just sell them poison and the profits |
move you from the hood |
Understood, it takes a KING to make a king, something that a king do |
Where’s the dude that made you king? |
What’s his name? |
King who? |
You send your kid to private school and tell mine’s bad |
You went to college but you only rap about the gang |
YAHWEH’S the KING, and your way it seems to have me of way to hell, |
in the hallway of screams |
Please believe since there’s just only one KING, that can only mean one thing |
They don’t do it like the KING do, KING do |
Homey ain’t nobody king you, simmer down boy |
And get your hands off the crown boy, now boy, Believe me |
They don’t do it like the KING do, KING do |
Homey ain’t nobody king you, simmer down boy |
And get your hands off the crown boy, now boy, Real talk |