Kings

[Verse 1: Novej]
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 'em die for ever tryin' to calcify my pineal gland
Yeah, they rap like fajitas but chica's fan of whose?
Gettin' 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 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 lookin' 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's makin' a livin'?
Done chasin' 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 trippin', 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

[Hook: Jalen Santoy]
Hallelujah, hallelujah, hallelujah
Praise the gun and you gon' have to praise the shooter
Hallelujah, hallelujah, hallelujah
Praise the gun and you gon' have to praise the shooter
Hallelujah, hallelujah, hallelujah
Praise the gun and you gon' have to praise the shooter
Hallelujah, hallelujah, hallelujah
Praise the gun and you gon' have to praise the shooter

[Verse 2: Lute]
While YouTube got niggas fooled — fuck the nae-nae
I'm just tryin' to get us-us free like Cinque
Whole lot of followers, a lot less leading
When y'all niggas gon' realize you can't hashtag freedom
#FreeMyNigga when you know he did it
Make us look ign'ant, don't air 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 tryin' to get us on track like locomotives
Clutch 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 bumpin' 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
Dumbin' down their lyrics just to get some recognition
I'll be in the booth like Craig Mack kickin' flavor in your system
Uh, or better yet, your eardrum
Fuck the metaphors, hope the truth make you listen

[Hook: Jalen Santoy]
Hallelujah, hallelujah, hallelujah
Praise the gun and you gon' have to praise the shooter
Hallelujah, hallelujah, hallelujah
Praise the gun and you gon' have to praise the shooter
Hallelujah, hallelujah, hallelujah
Praise the gun and you gon' have to praise the shooter
Hallelujah, hallelujah, hallelujah
Praise the gun and you gon' have to praise the shooter

[Verse 3: Jalen Santoy]
Hallelujah, hallelujah, hallelujah
We praise to Gandhi, you gon' have to praise the shooter
So hallelujah, hallelujah, hallelujah
We praise to Gandhi, you gon' have to praise the shooter
If it's to be, it's up to me, I think I figured that
Most y'all started rappin' 'cause you heard that's where the figures at
Tryin' to change the game like Three 6 before the Oscars
Knowin' I'm poppin' and keep it going, no show-stoppin'
I'm more like Vlade in LA, you know, without the floppin'
Vintage game but it's all the same, still point droppin'
Interview with Ahmad, then hit up Lauryn, get it poppin'
It's crazy, she used to stop in, never stay and leave you talkin'
Topics I'm okay with sharin' now
Before they didn't think about it, guess who carin' now
'Cause they favorite rapper been slackin', I'll go and then put a track in
Demolish y'all polished flows that was keepin' they fans attracted
I did, don't speak on it, karma keep me repentin'
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 on
Been at it for some years, we eatin' free without a coupon
Your daughter door like Groupon, been off that shit
Suggest you go and get a job and try to catch up quick
Dealin' with Jazmin last night on some catch up shit
She thinkin' I done changin' young and grown up quick, so I split

[Hook: Jalen Santoy]
Hallelujah, hallelujah, hallelujah
Praise the gun and you gon' have to praise the shooter
Hallelujah, hallelujah, hallelujah
Praise the gun and you gon' have to praise the shooter
Hallelujah, hallelujah, hallelujah
Praise the gun and you gon' have to praise the shooter
Hallelujah, hallelujah, hallelujah
Praise the gun and you gon' have to praise the shooter

[Verse 4: Rapper Big Pooh]
Yeah, it's that joint that make your head nod
Rest in peace, Big Pun, this my terror squad
Y'all don't want me on your songs, it's the fear of God
I remember when they said my verses weren't hard
Now what's the motive? I'm tryin' to cop the Lotus
Drivin' 'round town, wave my hand like the POTUS
Fat boy, larger than life, they all notice
When niggas think you on, they linin' up to be your soldiers
But bein' broke is like wakin' up with Folgers
Turn the lights on, you watchin' 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 callin' to hang
Dho told me, "Let 'em be if they don't call you by name"
Floor seats, Madison Square, just catchin' the game
When they scared to give you props, they just call you a acclaimed — fuck that!