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Kings' Aisle

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Turn it up a little bit more
Pull up actin’ funny, yeah I’m talkin’ to the bros
If you talkin’ bout a come-up, yeah I’m in the studio, hoe
Grindin’ til’ it’s over, push a Range by 24
I don’t really be stuntin’, but my bank account gold, yuh
Standin’ on my money, so high, service satellites
I be countin’ bands and I go and pass it to the guy
Mom and dad told me to get my bread
I’ma keep silent as I can and do what they said
Yuh, yuh
Throwin’ shots at me like you Pippen, but you missin’
Bitch you trippin, catch you slippin’ in the alley, said you wasn’t snitchin’
Now you catchin’ a clip and get burned
Bitch we’re Kings’ Aisle, don’t test us, it’s true what you heard
Aye, aye
Talk of the town, we got what we earned
Can’t ever settle for less, better is the norm
It’s our turn, went from shitty mics and learned
Now we cookin’ studio sessions and became reborn,
Yuh, aye!
Last man who test me, yeah, he gladly took an L
Yeah, you see all of these bands on me, if you don’t then you need braille
Ay’, I see the way yo’ bitch be lookin’, I don’t kiss and tell, and
If you don’t meet my demands, you’ll take a ride through Hell!
Big money, diamonds be dancin’ right out my pocket
Yeah I sold your bitch after I nut just for a profit
Send some shots at you just for a bag, yeah that’s just lawless
Yeah she got a tight waist and her face be lookin’ flawless
Hit that bitch with my dick till she scream, choking, and coughing
Big money, I just stack it up there ain’t no stoppin’
Yeah I don’t see your mans but I’ll leave him in a coffin
They don’t like the way I move when I’m thickening my wallet
They don’t like the way I move so I left them, now they sobbin’
Aw shit, stop it, this shit make me nauseous!
Aw shit, stop it, this shit make me nauseous!
Aw shit, stop it, this shit make me nauseous!
I cannot f*ck with you hoes, all of you bitches is gross, um yuh
Dripped in designer clothes, I’m gonna put on a show, um yuh
All of these niggas my foes, I need to buy me a pole, um yuh
Up in the stu’ with my bros, we gonna kill it fasho, um yuh
Why is my flow so cold, pussy niggas need a coat, um yuh
Told her let me drive the boat, she gave a nigga some throat, um yuh
Why you snitching like a hoe, just like a towel you fold, um yuh
You niggas is getting too bold, just wait till my Mac 10 unload, um yuh
I pull up, I drop out, I come on and pop out
These niggas, just want clout, sock em, in they mouth
We come through, pack you out, left hook, Pacquiao
They screamin, they shout out, our names, in the crowd
I’m drippin’, out the spout, make it rain, like the clouds
Too much sauce, on her blouse, fucked her good, turned her out
When I spit, fans too loud, when you spit, there’s no sound
I’m the best, there’s no doubt, I can’t f*ck, with you clowns

 The easy, fast & fun way to learn how to sing: 30DaySinger.com