King - Halo, Masta Killa, Big Remo

Ain’t no Bugattis round here, just a old box

Swishas on deck twistin' up the whole box

Today was wonderful I came up on a few rack

The definition of a G bring the truth back

Yea the groove’s back I’m on the panoramic life

Nightime vision in my shades and it’s damn near night

Yea, I put a hunned on this smoke bag

Smell like an onion in this smoke bag

Get yourself toe-tagged, niggas so fast

Run up with your ass, I run up in your whole ass

No disrespect to your ass but mami want it so bad

I stick ‘em like post-its Re texas hold 'em

I’m the king, said I’m the king

Yea I’m the king of rock, there ain’t none flyer

And I won’t stop rockin', I won’t retire

I’m the king, said I’m the king

It go, Kash, if you see what I’m smokin' now

Take two and pass nigga, blow it out

I know it smell loud, but really it sweet

My spot on cloud nine y’all know I put up my feet

And I’mma have a drink, I’m on the ground black

My I love her for that

I’mma call up my connect and get up on a few jars

Last time I seen her had to run a nigga two large

On that Jamaican fruit, he call it fruityard

And now it’s martian green, it gets you Bruno Mars

Yo, listen I be on that Khalifa shit

Ain’t nothing silly though, yea said

Come up for air shorty, take it easy mama

You ain’t gotta impress me, slide it cooler than Gretzky

To the rules when it’s messy, keep it true would you let me

Disrespect you like how most rappers rap about in they songs

If we do get along can I Vietnam bomb

Surprise you with witty charm

Flip another response to her messages

Lessons is prerogative, prolly twist a piffery

Disappear, no forgettin' me I’m slippery

Musician, claim I’m in need of a muse

Just an excuse for her in my swimmin' pool

Rap perks kinda cool, never stop rhymin' fool

Do it every day, all the time and my dude it go

Microphone blue and the flow is so fluid

Just cool you, just some catchin' up to it

Hot liquid drips the lyrics hit the pavement

Like daisy cutters through the basement

Taste the aftermath of my iron palm blast

My five daily

Who could last the session with my Cherokee chief

See my wallaby Indian mocks

Watch me shadowbox, 52 locks blocks tomahawk

Ox chops technique street sweep

Yellow tape, white sheeps gun smoke somethin' dead

My chess game blow you out my frame

So by any means I be the royal lion kings

Son I’ll be the royal lion king