Grown Simba

[Verse 1: Kelvin Jones]

Man Im feeling like a puppet they got satan pulling strings
Man the way that I be fly they be hating on the wings
I ain't no Lebron James I ain't waiting for the ring
Im more like a young Simba I can't wait to be the king
Better yet a young Cole, I wanna hear drum rolls when I pass
Young Messi, got 101 goals get em fast, finish last never that
Boy its hot in here, I don't care, Where my Sweaters at never lack
You put on a clever act, William Shakespeare
Feeling at the top, until I die, Ima stay here
Welcome to the world where the phony people hate
And you know I got that cheese macaroni on my plate
And they gather 'round the dinner table only to debate
What's his fate? Is he great? Is he balling? Is he paid?
Well uh... success, yes, yes, and yes
Double d's pushed against me I guessed thats depressed
And yes, I do have the S on my chest
But its net to the G, Sweater Gang who we be
I wanna have the women go insane to meet me
We wear chains but we claim to be free
And bang stupidly we be fighting over colors
Mothers losing their sons and sister losing the brothers
Cause the blocks stay cocked in these streets
Thats why I prefer the sheets you could say I'm undercover, huh