Lyrics:
still ain't got shit (huh?)
You bustin' down your watch, but your mama still in the projects (come on)
I guess they gon' need me to lead by example (ha)
glory days
Ride upon the hip-hoorays
Of hometown girls who've been displayed
In dirty magazines.
"And what am I supposed to do with you?"
Just tell
In Hollywood they have a different language that they speak
It's spoken by those folks who went to school for just one week
It's found inside
split
By some nigga she let in the house
I was 7 when I learned my first lesson bout sexing
From the magazine collection underneath the couch
I was 8
tucked by the obliques as I converse with Kings
Roundtable proceedings about my underworld dealings
Spoken in code so prying ears don't know the meaning
an iPhone on repeat
My face in different homes and in every magazine
Ill do it my own, cause I ain't never need a team
I know that I'm a king, like Lebron
I
tucked by the obliques as I converse with Kings
Roundtable proceedings about my underworld dealings
Spoken in code so prying ears don't know the meaning
I say you look good then you kiss your teeth
You look me up and down as you flick your weave
Rude girl body like the magazine
Bum looking ripe
creep, seen it happen to Kings
Crack fiends livin' longer than my niggas who sling
This ain't a magazine shorty, I live without greed
I need a seven
Everybody wants to be the carnival queen
Everybody wants to be the carnival king or queen
We all read the books
She takes her clothes off
One by one
and this girl walked up and said 'I recognise your face.
Your name's Ty isn't it? I seen you in this and that magazine'
I was quite chuffed really,
looked
The street looked kind of different - harsher colours sharper
Angles. Shops stacked high with stereos and rows of magazines. Smells
Of coffee, glossy
from the dead
In the Benz back seat
I encountered the magazine king
He was wearing that old high school ring
Ah, to see the aggressor with clarity
who came
I'm off the hook like 27th street between 11th and 12th
All by myself
[Chorus]
Ah-yo, you think you holdin' it down, don't get gassed
Frustration is the fuse
The flame is hate
Tick tick tick
Detonate
She's the bomb
Plastic models in plastic magazines
Plastic kings and plastic
a rapper, what the fuck do I know
Well I'm also a nigga that
Came off Martin Luther King, man
Son of a dope lady
And I went to fuckin' Morehouse nigga
I
Unh....yeah....check it
This is legendary shit in the making
Not that falsification that you partake in
Not them woof tickets supplied by cowards in
death to doubt
Now that I doubt death, I'm blessed by every breath
Dedicated to detail, I will always prevail, huh
Giving and grateful, I will not
Anaglypta, artex, emulsion, eggshell, full gloss, inch-tape, shade-card, formica, formica, formica
The King is Dead
Long Live the Queen
Little
a lil' sex , money and murder
Laids up with a reload the gun won't me to serve ya
Got you lost in a thug world
Fully loaded magazine playin' with your
the Champagne
Dope my medication
7 grams I'm facing
God is amazing
Molded by the pain
I see through the fame
I still got my soul
I still use my brain
Lion
life
With me
Trips across the seven seas
The world is yours by any means
Front cover of them magazines
To frequent trips in limousines
I want
no king
she gave me all her Addies yea she knew she caught and had me
it's funny how a week go by I started bragging
how she was down to earth laid
the fuse
The flame is hate
Tick tick tick
Detonate
She's the bomb
Plastic models in plastic magazines
Plastic kings and plastic queens
All are seen
.jpg/235px-Kaki_King_2016_(cropped).jpg "Kaki King")
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