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I'm an |
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I'm, I'm an |
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Rumor has it I'm an underground king |
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All I give a fuck about is money |
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And when I got it, I don't give a fuck about it |
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It's outlandish, I take for granted what God granted |
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My countertop granite, my house is outstanding |
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While I'm standing inside of it |
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Feelin' inside out as I pop Xanax |
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Watching myself on TV |
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In order to get to the TV I had to go through the proper channels |
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I don't rock the flannel, I rock the Air Max, Atmos and camo |
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They call me the Benz owner, I put Lorenzo's on it |
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Then go and pick a chick up, bone it and friend zone her |
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Soon as I see her wake up, I be fuckin' her raw |
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If she a B or an A cup, make her fuck in a bra |
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Let's get it goin', got a dyke in the closet |
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I'm sure she enjoyin', I kill verses in return for it |
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A eulogy is borin', for you to be informed |
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I'm a chore and my circle change more than a European coin |
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Once the kill has begun, you realize |
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I'm the illest, the realest is Pimp C, and the trillest is Bun |
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I'm definitely best at gun rap, gun wrap |
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I put you on my recipe list |
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I put you on the treadmill accessory less like run that, run that |
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Detroit nigga, I destroy niggas in general |
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I deploy niggas to generally destroy niggas' regimes |
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So rumor has it I'm an underground king |
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King |
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From underground to number one, I don't get it |
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I still be in Civics, it's one of my bitches', I grew witH tHe clip |
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And I'm known for tHe distributing, a loc 'til I'm ended |
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Put ten in a tank, 3 mil' in my bank, I'm more real tHan you tHink |
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Buy a bitcH some HigH Heels, a small purse and a sHank |
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Some wet naps, a little skirt to insert tHrougH a sHape |
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I'm in tHe gun wraps, I say tHem gun raps |
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I brougHt tHe guns back and sHowin' gang tats |
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And wHen I wrote tHis Had every H capped |
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You know tHem Hoovers 'bout it, 'bout it, I serve bullets |
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And narcotics, tHe cops watcHin', still poppin' |
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A gang member, pitcHin' rock, every car on tHe block |
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No antennas, just a body, myself, I'm my own Hitta |
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I'm Top Dawg, you cat litter |
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Denied a million tHrougH a text, I'm a real nigga |
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From Heaven to tHe lowest of devils |
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Spit every bar for tHe rebels |
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My wardrobe done started trouble: orange rags |
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Bucket Hats, even be witH my stunt double |
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My life is eitHer jail or oxy in my cotton |
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You lookin' pale and so it's gon' be for tHe knockin' |
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{?} list on my stone, tHen 45, it's only 3 options |
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I'm second to none, I sHoot 'til I won, gun bigger tHan Pun |
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Take more tHan your lung, pop, pop, pop |
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Convert to a Hearse, get a new top dropped, yawk yawk |
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Murder music, jump out of Buicks |
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Nobody movin' or I squeeze on it |
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Before I give up the crown, I bleed on it |
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King |
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An underground king sippin' my lean |
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You know I double my profit because I triple my beam |
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You niggas stop with the topics and all this fussin' and arguin' |
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Ain't it clear to your optics that I would go through a squadron? |
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Cause I'm as violent and vicious as killin' Christians and Christians |
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On the eve of a Christmas, say we got sick and sadistic |
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I'm talkin' tangled and twisted, this shit was terror-terrific |
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We killed the hubby and kiddies, murdered the dog and the misses |
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And made the maid do the dishes, now she sleep with the fishes |
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Now that sucka rapper's dead, I assume my position |
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In the place, a king, on the throne is where I'm sittin' |
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Yeah, the Iron Throne is mailed with the metal microphone |
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Hey, let the rats and the mice know Killer Mike is home |
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Cause Killer is iller than all the killers they know |
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My past is good, I land a rock at my show |
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Before I go, rest in peace to Dilla fo' sho |
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Slum lord with a mic cord in a slum village on a slum tour |
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Through every ghetto I carry the heavy metal |
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Just in case a shovel is needed when arguments are settled |
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Mama get rose petals |
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That's it, finito, no chatter, the matter settled |
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I got your bitch, I got some head, she got stilettos |
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Lyrically I'm literally a bad motherfucker |
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Bernard Freeman technique, and my swagger Chad Butler, mothafucka |
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King |
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