Lyrics:
On the e-way, I was just cruisin'
.40 glock, that's just for my toaster
I'm tired of the losin', I can't do no snoozin'
One day you gon see me all on that poster
side, small town night life
White walls rollin’ in the parking lot of the Hardees
Down by the Rural King
Yeah we go real slow through the drive thru
Don’t
a hunnid five on the I in
My G 3 5
Cruisin round the city I aint
Ducking from law
Just looking for these bands
Im on the job
All I need is gas in the tank
Well I'm, cruisin' through the West end
Of the O did you know that I float when I flow
And I be, whippin' through the South side
Yeah I'm on free
at bat I hit it out the park
And she can tell that I'm a king just by the way I walk
You ain't gotta know my floor I'm always at the top
And that bass go
Now the king told the boogie men
"You have to let that raga drop"
The oil down the desert way
Has been shaken to the top
The Sheik he drove his
drawn by Shirt Kings
I been fuckin' they hustle, married to a racket
Since the first Air Jordan's and Starter jackets
I slept with a package, under
Now the king told the boogie men m
"You have to let that raga drop"
The oil down the desert way
Has been shaken to the top
The Sheik he drove
Newton) lam' truck fast as fuck
But I'm pole cruisin' (Pole cruisin')
Leavin' bitches anywhere I want
Like a Bird scooter (Like a Bird)
Mastro's, eatin' by
on for my hit economically
Cruisin' and smokin' is good with a model chick
Do my dirt by myself I keep it anonymous
I shoot for the stars like I studied
Now the king told the boogie men
You have to let that raga drop
The oil down the desert way
Has been shaken to the top
The sheikh, he drove his
I be flexin' flexin' flexin' flexin' flexin' frozen winter bitch
She gon' gimme top while we cruisin' cruisin' in my whip
Whippin' in the nimbus I
high
She's sittin' like a Queen right there by his side
And he knows what it's like To be King for just one night
They go to the dance, meet up with up
brought me back to that McDonald's
Took it to my stashbox, 560 State Street
Catch me in the kitchen like a Simmons whippin' pastry
Cruisin' down 8th St,
to mourners
Money launderers, neighborhood coroners, place bodies in bags
Tango with dirty cash, cocaine jacks
"Kings of the Hill", out to blow like propane
ain't the jets then it ain't nothing
Yo the king closed his cloak
The set was overfull
Such a excellent moment
So emotional
He rushed out
Pass the crown to the new female king
This is real dog, you nothin' but a lean out thing
Like the end of the world
We put it all to a stop
I got a thing at one
And Imma be there
Maybe 1 2 3
We'll see
When I be there
A case of Busch's finest
Da kine
You know, your highness
The king
Pull up to the hood v6 cruisin' low
Windows down aux bangin' 03 Greedo
Starry roof high like the sky we on dope
Can't tell us shit y'all don't want
I'm Santo Nic
Die for my bitch like it's Fanta
I gotta run what you make of it
Slow on the track, bitch, I'm cruisin
Tryna show off, see how they losin
with him
Now he's cruisin'
Don't want to lose it
Loop around Sonic
And right back on it
Low gear, drive by
Up and down
That's right
[Chorus]
could
Install satellite
Rascal Flattin'all night
King cab, bass tubes
Stop light, boom-boom
Five days, all week
Two jobs so he can
Bob that head
Every
you pass them by
King of your soul
So you wanna be, wanna be
King of your soul
A crusader out for something
Or a restless prince of nothing
The princess
on the bustas then we dine
Eatin' dinner by candlelight
Be alert and put in works
With a thugs passion i'm a king
And you the queen up in thugs mansion
Me, I'm
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