Kings - Jalen Santoy, Novej, Lute

I hail from Freedom Hill, on my feet, I stand

And what used to be Fila’s and Reebok’s, damn

I would meet you at the weed spot where we got grams

Enough, Doc couldn’t detox, so need I plan

To squeeze off, man, if we not fam

And let them die for ever trying to calcify my penile gland

Yeah, they rap like fajitas but chica’s fan of whose

Getting more play like the east side band, ya heard

She likes diction, a lot of words

Non-fiction, a bad boy pissed and who fly the bird

If he’s a Christian, what is this, he got the Earth

93 million miles away, Glock in her purse

Ahk' got the nerve, yeah, I know I ought to serve

Everybody looking for a fix, if I got the work

This is not a curse, chip on my collared shirt

Bless manifest my destiny, yep, without the church

Amen, whose son is making a living

Done chasing the chicken but stashed cake in the kitchen

Some hated we kick it, these bums basically sickened

Not a part of my body, God, too big for tripping, huh

My alibi, tell them I was high when you seen me

Resurrect Malcolm X, raise my Kundalini

Genocide couldn’t pry me out the black beanie

Still tapped the bottle of Moscato, watch the genie

Hallelujah, hallelujah, hallelujah

Praising Gandhi, you gon' have to praise the shooter x4

While YouTube got niggas fooled

Fuck the neh-neh, I’m just trying to get a free like

Whole lot of followers, a lot less leading

When y’all niggas gonna realize you can’t hashtag freedom

Hashtag free my nigga when you know he did it

Make us like ignorant, and his business

As a culture, now we back where we started, all over

While niggas in the club predict rain like Al Roker

I’m just trying to get us on track like locomotives

Touch your soul, like what’s the motive

I just hope you remain focused on what the goal is

God body, young Marcus Garvey, my mama said

Hood’s prophet, I’m hood’s topic

2 years later, I still got it, fuck the street cred

In the '86 Cutlass bumping Jeezy

Holler at your boy if you ever need me

Cause I’m gone, maybe off the liquor

Or maybe in the '86 Caprice with a lift kit

Either way it goes, I’m lifted

While niggas iced out to the T like they Lipton

Dumbing down their lyrics just to get some recognition

I’ll be in the booth like Craig Mack kicking flavor in your system

Uh, or better yet, your eardrum

Fuck the metaphors, hope the truth make you listen

Hallelujah, hallelujah, hallelujah

Praising Gandhi, you gon' have to praise the shooter

So hallelujah, hallelujah, hallelujah

Praising Gandhi, you gon' have to praise the shooter

If it’s to being self to me, I think I figure that

Most y’all started rapping cause you thought that’s where the figures at

Try to change the game like Three 6 before the Oscars

Knowing I’m popping and keep it going, no show-stopping

I’m more like Vlade in LA, you know, without the flopping

Been in game but it’s all the same, still point dropping

In the view of the mind and hit up Lauryn, get it popping

It’s crazy, she used to stop and never stay and leave you talking

Topics I’m okay with sharing now

Before they didn’t think about it, guess who’s caring now

Because their favorite rapper been slacking, I’ll go and then put a track in

Demolish y’all polished flows that was keeping their fans attracted

And I dig, don’t speak on it, karma keep me repenting

Made mistakes and now my plate look like a big pile of spinach

Too strong, had to move on, the city say I’m due, uh

Been at it for some years, we eating free without a coupon

Y’all daughter joined like Groupon, been off that shit

Suggest you go and get a job and try to catch up quick

Dealing with Jasmine last night on some catch up shit

She thinking I done changed, I’m young and grown up quick

So I split

Yeah, it’s that joint that make your head nod

Rest in peace, Big Pun, this my terror squad

You don’t want me on your songs, it’s the fear of God

I remember when they said my verses wasn’t hard

Now what’s the motive, I’m trying to cop the Lotus

Driving around town, wave my hand like the POTUS

Fat boy, larger than life, they all notice

When niggas think you on, they lining up to be your soldiers

But being broke is like waking up with Folgers

Turn the lights on, we watching roaches

I swore I wouldn’t change, spent my money on material things

Me and my niggas roll tough like we started a gang

Fucked a couple broads once, now they calling to hang

Dough told me let them be if they don’t call you by name

Floor seats, Madison Square, just catching the game

When they scared to give you props, they just call you a fuck that