Berner, Ampichino, The Jacka - Kings and Queens lyrics
[Berner, Ampichino, The Jacka - Kings and Queens lyrics]
We were kings and queens trapped in Babylon
You'll never reach your dreams
In the city of Gods you gotta clap or toast
My nigga just died I'm talking
Back to his ghost
It opened up my eyes cooking
Crack on the stove
Weighing up money putting slabs on the road
Gotta go on the run better bag you a hoe
My Uzi weighs a ton, put a tag on your toe
187 on a officer i got no info to offer ya
You know what, my niggas refuse to grow up
Got rich but still refuse to slow up
Got pinched, did his time with grown ups
Came home, pourin' up, stuck on the corner
Right here in the slums he got his diploma
Its a body in the bushes you smell the aroma
He get his tree and his work from California
Choppa gets to choppin' no time to warn ya
Mortuary number better call the coroner
My young niggas mainey they
Killing while cam-cording
Taking a man's life make you feel important
We all lost souls it's big
Cause it's still enormous
It's a full time job killing all informants
Driving with no L's and the lights are shined
I sent a pack to your nigg
He ain't get that shit
I fount out where he live
Then I tapped in sick
Nobody cooler, ruler on my goddamn hip
Don't got no juice up it's over
But it won't stop Jack
Fast shout the whole Mob back
Then I wrote raps
Right now it's from the soul
No pen or notepad
No Cigarillo or Back strictly Raw Zags
New K just like UK we smoke fags
Do that kinda shit everyday still show class
If it's dope and no gun in
The ride you drove fast
When you drove past the goons you posed as
When cowards scared to face you
They murder your close friends
After a long conversation we
Were millionaires after that
Unless they take they Shihad can't forgive
'em for things they did
Guess they gotta learn every time
That I bang a head
Shout out to the Mob and every
Thug selling 'caine to live
Yeah blow money in my suitcase
You'll never reach your dreams
In the city of Gods you gotta clap or toast
My nigga just died I'm talking
Back to his ghost
It opened up my eyes cooking
Crack on the stove
Weighing up money putting slabs on the road
Gotta go on the run better bag you a hoe
My Uzi weighs a ton, put a tag on your toe
187 on a officer i got no info to offer ya
You know what, my niggas refuse to grow up
Got rich but still refuse to slow up
Got pinched, did his time with grown ups
Came home, pourin' up, stuck on the corner
Right here in the slums he got his diploma
Its a body in the bushes you smell the aroma
He get his tree and his work from California
Choppa gets to choppin' no time to warn ya
Mortuary number better call the coroner
My young niggas mainey they
Killing while cam-cording
Taking a man's life make you feel important
We all lost souls it's big
Cause it's still enormous
It's a full time job killing all informants
Driving with no L's and the lights are shined
I sent a pack to your nigg
He ain't get that shit
I fount out where he live
Then I tapped in sick
Nobody cooler, ruler on my goddamn hip
Don't got no juice up it's over
But it won't stop Jack
Fast shout the whole Mob back
Then I wrote raps
Right now it's from the soul
No pen or notepad
No Cigarillo or Back strictly Raw Zags
New K just like UK we smoke fags
Do that kinda shit everyday still show class
If it's dope and no gun in
The ride you drove fast
When you drove past the goons you posed as
When cowards scared to face you
They murder your close friends
After a long conversation we
Were millionaires after that
Unless they take they Shihad can't forgive
'em for things they did
Guess they gotta learn every time
That I bang a head
Shout out to the Mob and every
Thug selling 'caine to live
Yeah blow money in my suitcase