Kings (Words Paint Pictures 2015)

Текст песни Apollo Brown and Rapper Big Pooh, Jalen Santoy, Lute, Novej - Kings (Words Paint Pictures 2015)

I hail from Freedom Hill, on my feet I stand
In 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 'em die forever trying to calcify my pineal gland
Yeah, they rap like fajitas but chica's fan
Of who's getting more play like the Eastside band
You heard? She like diction, a lot of words
Non-fiction, a bad boy, Piston who fly the bird
If he a Christian, what is this? He got the earth
93 Million miles away, Glock in her purse
I got the nerve, yeah, I know I oughta serve
Everybody looking for a fix if I got the work
This is not a curse, chip on my collar shirt
Blessed, manifest my destiny, yup, without the church
Amen, whose son's making a living?
Done chasing the chicken but stash cake in the kitchen
Some hate it, we kick it, these bums basically sicken
Not a part of my body, God, too big for tripping, huh?
My alibi, tell 'em I was high when you seen me
Resurrect Malcolm X, raise my kundalini
Genocide couldn't pry me out the black beanie
Still tap a bottle of Moscato, watch the genie

Hallelujah, hallelujah, hallelujah
Praise the gun then you gon' have to praise the shooter
Hallelujah, hallelujah, hallelujah
Praise the gun then you gon' have to praise the shooter
Hallelujah, hallelujah, hallelujah
Praise the gun then you gon' have to praise the shooter
Hallelujah, hallelujah, hallelujah
Praise the gun then you gon' have to praise the shooter

Why YouTube got niggas fooled? Fuck the nae-nae
I'm just tryna get us us, free like Cinque
Whole lot of followers, a lot less leading
When y'all niggas gon' realize you can't hashtag freedom?
Hashtag free my nigga when you know he did it
Make us look ign'ant, don't air his business
As a culture, now we back where we started, all over
While niggas in the club put dick ring like Al Roker
I'm just tryna 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
Two 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 they lyrics just to get some recognition
I 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
Praise the gun then you gon' have to praise the shooter
Hallelujah, hallelujah, hallelujah
Praise the gun then you gon' have to praise the shooter
Hallelujah, hallelujah, hallelujah
Praise the gun then you gon' have to praise the shooter
Hallelujah, hallelujah, hallelujah
Praise the gun then you gon' have to praise the shooter

Hallelujah, hallelujah, hallelujah
You praise the gun then you gon' have to praise the shooter
So hallelujah, hallelujah, hallelujah
You praise the gun then you gon' have to praise the shooter
If it's to be, it's up to me, I think I figured that
Most y'all started rapping 'cause
You heard that's where the figures at
Tryna 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 L.A., you know, without the flopping
Been the game but it's all the same, still point dropping
Interview with a model, hit up Lauren, get it popping
It's crazy she used to stop in, never stay and leave me talking
Topics I'm okay with sharing now
Before, they didn't think about it, guess who caring now?
'Cause they favorite rapper been slacking, I go in and put a track in
Demolish the polished flows that was keeping they fans attracting
I didn't, no 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 on
Been at it for some years, we eating free without a coupon
Y'all door to door like Groupon, been off that shit
Suggest you go and get a job and try to catch up quick
Dinner with Jasmine last night on some catch up shit
She thinking I done changed, a youngin' grown up quick
So I split

Hallelujah, hallelujah, hallelujah
Praise the gun then you gon' have to praise the shooter
Hallelujah, hallelujah, hallelujah
Praise the gun then you gon' have to praise the shooter
Hallelujah, hallelujah, hallelujah
Praise the gun then you gon' have to praise the shooter
Hallelujah, hallelujah, hallelujah
Praise the gun then you gon' have to praise the shooter

Yeah, this that joint that make your head nod
Rest in peace, Big Pun, this my terror squad
You don't want me on your songs, that's the fear of God
I remember when they said my verses wasn't hard
Now what's the motive? I'm tryna cop a Lotus
Driving 'round 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, you watching roaches
Swore I wouldn't change, spend 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
Doe told me let 'em be if they don't call me by name
Floor seats to Madison Square, just catching the game
When they scared to give you props, they just call you acclaimed
Fuck that