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King T

Roger McBride (born December 14, 1968), better known by his stage name King T (formerly known as King Tee), is an American West Coast Hip hop rapper from Compton, California. Emerging as one of Compton's earliest hip hop artists. He was signed to Capitol records, where he released his debut album "Act a Fool" in 1988 with the hit singles, "Act a Fool," "Payback's a Mutha," "The Coolest," and "Bass (remix)," all of which were considered hip-hop classics. In the late 1980s and early 1990s, he worked primarily with producer DJ Jake, and was responsible for the rise of Tha Beer Drinkers, whom he helped guide into the rap game. T is also the CEO of his own record label, King T Inc. more »

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Mashin in this hot Coupe De
Ville with blue twisters
I just got it waxed
Now I'm true without a doubt
Dippin down Alondra on my way to the south
The big homie Way bet a G, a whole ounce
He said it wasn't hot
I made him watch the back-bounce
Ah, back in traffic
Feelin like the last pimp
Hit the three-wheel, made a left on Kemp
I dropped that my old crib just
To see it's all good
The little homies moved in the
Spot with Lil' Wood
See, niggas this way don't give
A damn about you hoes
We find real estate in the
Midst of robbin yo's with Benzis and trucks
Plenty cavi for the clucks
Keep a eye on who's who
And muthafuck what's what
For all gees who got it poppin
In they hood for the moment
It's the gangsta King T, show me love loc
Cause I'ma speak on it

Ah, that's that G shit
(mobbin' through your hood)
Move on gangstas, move on
Move on gangstas, move on
Ah, that's that G shit
(mobbin' through your hood)
Groove on hustlers, groove on
Groove on hustlers, groove on

Man, the night comes and
A gangsta's intuition
I hops in my 'burban, limited edition
I'm lookin for a Lakewood hoe
That's my mission
I'm through with fuckin Hawthorne tramps
They be snitchin what will it be
Pepper's or that spot Paradise?
They keep a flock of girls
But you gotta dress nice suckers, I'm a gee
I got some clocks I ain't touched
Feathered Borsalinos with Armani in my clutch
Nigga what, raised by ballers, I'm legit
And if you don't believe, ask Freeway Rick
You don't believe Rick
Well ask my homie Big Jess
Or his brother Big Droop, OG's, nothin less
It's many niggas drinkin that gangsta juice
But I done seen none of y'all
When it was time to truce
And I was at Lueders Park
Squashin' beef with opponents
While your ass was at your
Mansion eatin pussy punk, speak on it

Ah, that's that G shit
(mobbin' through your hood)
Move on gangstas, move on
Move on gangstas, move on
Ah, that's that G shit
(mobbin' through your hood)
Groove on hustlers, groove on
Groove on hustlers, groove on

These busters better recognize what's comin
Dancin on D's with the Alpine humpin
Every since the child knew the
Ways to live foul
Now I bust rhymes like a cool criminal
Alcoholic chronic-smokin niggas know the deal
Gun-totin, mouth tapin niggas know I'm real
I represent the West to the fullest extent
A Southern California Hub City resident
Yes yes y'all, it's not a secret no more
I got lyrics out the ass
And they all hardcore
Like that, comin with that West Coast strap
Guaranteed to civilize a nigga talkin smack
What you wanna do us
Do your dance like you do it
This one's for my people up in Texas
Watch em screw it
Tight conversation hit's the speakers
For the moment
But if your ass can't comprehend fool
Speak on it

Ah, that's that G shit
(mobbin' through your hood)
Move on gangstas, move on
Move on gangstas, move on
Ah, that's that G shit
(mobbin' through your hood)
Groove on hustlers, groove on
Groove on hustlers, groove on

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