Natti: 
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 lions 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 
Sheisty Khrist: 
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 
Deacon: 
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 in 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 as 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