Lyrics:
Close your eyes dig deep into your mind
Imagine you's an old man at age 79
Sitting in a rocking chair, dog by your feet
Gray hair, poor hearing,
your back to playing hacky sack with my mind
But it doesn't make it easier for me to find
Why I'm having such a harder time
I mean
What do I gotta do
love it
You like it, I love it
Where the homegirl Rapsody at?
I need you to speak your mind real quick, loved one!
Let me talk my Stu Scott,
The haters have a right with what's in the papers
I'm turned off it's your loss as long as you're paid off by your boss
You can knock back the cocktail shot
I got money on my mind
I'm just tryna get some dough
I ain't picking up my line
Unless it's money on the phone
Gotta get it on the daily all I want
Yeah, I find beauty in horror
Check the god aura, rats get lit up like
Who want rump with the god?
Must be outta your mind, what
Kinda drug is you on,
the chair, square
Sleep with me, you came here, war with me is scary
Get beat silly tryna lamp here, better bring your theory heat
I got a drop damp here,
the chair, square
Sleep with me, you came here, war with me is scary
Get beat silly tryna lamp here, better bring your theory heat
I got a drop damp here,
went insane
Turned the boat into a prison
Sold to gypsies on Thanksgiving
At motels we make a living
Day by day, we take in guests
Entertain with honest
think you burglaring[00:08.42]But I think you gold[00:09.78]For what it's worth[00:11.20]For what it's worth[00:12.54]I think you've heard
Now stop, listen, don't go no farther
My name is King Tee, I'd like to introduce my partner
Focus your eyes cause my homie is hot
(I'm Mix Master
show you my pain is yours
You could get what you love, be a chain in cause
You alive right now
There's so many that's dead or locked up inside the beast,
bout a Bentley
Building a business is deadly
Gold soul theory
I don't need negativity
Living my life
Flying by the bad energy
Ready, the rocket man off
mind
Fuck dressed to impressed, Im fresh to death
Cuz She call me King, and these golds rare
See that green UTG T, hold your breath
Wit a pair
Uh, you niggas make me sick oh
I should blick ya kinfolk, stay up on ya top toes
My hip equipped a big chrome, my nerve is quick to trip so,
Might wanna
theory––no one really knew what the fuck was going on in her head and how to prescribe anything to help––but the one theory she wound up taking the most
right
Someone's at my door, baby, who could it be?
Someone wants to score and get laid by the D-O-double G
Hey girl, what's your name? You wanna go
Cayenne peppers on the slice
Mix it up mix it up nice
Gucci stepping tennis shoe white
Y-3 hanging on the right
Can’t make it hot I’m really with
to get up on your vocab, you gots to have vocab
Letters makes words, and sentences makes paragraphs
Yo, I make the pen capsize, the verbal with
missin', next day, where your face went?
With Dolly Parton music playin' in my pickup truck
My gold sandwich, a swigger liquor chewin' duck
I got no
adds up
You gon back up
So make your mind up
These days reality feel like skating on thin ice
So when does it all crack
Is it all a big lie
Truth lies
pointing fingers off at your trial (damn)
My Rolls-Royce with my driver in it
Gettin' fucked up 'cause I ain't got to drive (yeah)
That Kendrick on them
me up
I mean funeral service, Tom Ford, 3-piece suit,
Wake these motha fuckas up
Verse 2
Y'all keep talking that big shit
You keep your mouths open
The shooters gotta do it day for day
So make your peace
Open your books to the first chapter, verse four, page eight
And link to my thoughts as my intents
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