Lyrics365
No Result
View All Result
Lyrics365
No Result
View All Result

Lyrics365 > Lupe Fiasco > Kings

Kings

"Kings" Lyrics by Lupe Fiasco

As I proceed to go dig through an old crib

Hold kids as I plunder through a pharaoh house

Thug Bones in gilded apparel piss

But arrow heads then let the marrow out

I literally won’t leave litter since I’ve received the Brita

And when the sea leaves the land, who will feed the rivers, huh?

Crazy busy, make me, make me miss ya even when I’m with ya

If a phone calls in the club, but the music is too loud around to hear it

Do I still have to clear it?

Example: now I don’t let samples in my lyrics

Myth be told, 60 souls perished in the parish bill

Wrote a pair of wills on 50 scrolls with a pair of quills

Answered the question ‘Americause?’ Amerikills

Been living inside in envelopes with a pair of sills

Tall man like terror bills downfall from a pair of stilts wearin’ heels, that’s high

As I proceed to find silver line in a stalagmite

Cat eyes and scarab crowns on a black grace

Too wave, not to see bubonic plague in your rat face

Practice on the uttering until it lactates

Then begin the buttering of the pancakes

Push it to the margin flood the garden to the land lakes

Associate with mates who spit inside of they handshakes, yeah

(Pharaoh, pharaoh, pharaoh)

Yeah, yeah, yeah

As I walk through the shadow of San Fernando Valley

Walkin’ like fingers how, how they rally on pianos

Up and down the dial until I WKRP, in Cincinnati

Let’s settle on the station like “Last gas for 100 miles”

May I have this last dance?

Grab her hands then proceed to do the runnin’ child

Vindaloo the stomach growls, introduced to somethin’ wild

Until we see civilization, Walmarts and Chik-a-fallacious

Patience, our art isn’t intimidation

But you can’t process the progress

If you get your style cues from outta Complex

Nah nigga, that ain’t hot

No, no and no shots, no boas and no thots

I walk ’em over the motorboat on the yachts

To go so sober on all the shirk and on overdose on salats, huh?

Francis Ford Coppola’s spoken plots

Hyannis Port localists rollin’ in open drops

Titanic corpse smokin’ from openin’ those with chops

Lycanic moonlit leader loc’in with loaded Glocks, huh!

Share this:

  • Click to share on Facebook (Opens in new window) Facebook
  • Click to share on X (Opens in new window) X

Related

Tags: Lupe Fiasco

    © 2025 lyrics365

    No Result
    View All Result

      © 2025 lyrics365