Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Kings, artist - CunninLynguists. Album song Strange Journey Volume Three, in the genre Рэп и хип-хоп
Date of issue: 31.03.2014
Age restrictions: 18+
Record label: Bad Taste
Song language: English
Kings |
Sire of sires, hiding behind squires |
Similar to the emperors transparent attire |
My guillotine swings and kings become silent |
Let the blue blood run red to make violet |
Let the brand new blood shed define violent |
Fighting over the chair that’s highest up in the air |
The crown lives forever for never a lack of heir |
How do lambs try to come to lay claim to a lion’s share? |
Everybody claim to have a kings just cause |
Most wanna be the king just cus |
Its become about as mindless as Midas minus the touch |
Or a search and seizure of Ceasar’s whole harem of sluts |
Minus the nuts |
Top of the mountain is much colder |
Coming for the crown that’s rapped round ya molar |
Striking to bring fin to a shit eating grin |
Most made men turn maiden |
Few are brave till the end |
Yes! |
They playin checkers not chess |
Check the way that I move on the set |
King shit |
On the throne leaning, leg across the armrest |
Gold chains draped on my neck |
King shit |
I seen guys with dreams they had wings to fly |
Get crushed like flies |
King shit |
The king dies, and darkness will touch the skies |
But the sun shall rise |
King shit |
You can bow or watch your bough break |
If the King swing leave you looking like some round steak |
You just jest |
Punch you in your clown face |
Fire turned flesh |
Turn you into pound cake |
Smokin something loud as the crowd |
When this castle forged steel came round to ya brow |
And ya crown fell |
I’m flyer than the ravens |
Carrying the news on your new found enslavement |
Any last words for your tombstone engravement |
As laymen lay with yo ladies for payment |
Cool enough to pull a coup in a coupe |
That weak talk make me sick, somebody brew me some soup |
Any regrets I’ll let you brood in a noose |
When I come home to roost get reduced (hol' up!) |
And fuck ya flag you need trust for truce |
Death to anyone who cuts you loose |
I’m talking that king shit |
Yes! |
They playin checkers not chess |
Check the way that I move on the set |
King shit |
On the throne leaning, leg across the armrest |
Gold chains draped on my neck |
King shit |
I seen guys with dreams they had wings to fly |
Get crushed like flies |
King shit |
The king dies, and darkness will touch the skies |
But the sun shall rise |
King shit |