DJ Kay Slay, Loaded Lux, Saigon, William Young - Lyrical 300 lyrics

And we continue on, William Young, Saigon
Loaded Lux
Lyrical 300, is where we hold them
This is where we fight
This is where they die

Yow, yow my spirit is unruly
If this was the days of your majesty
There be blood on the hands of
Every man on my calvary
Am from Kings County
With my 11th degrees say
Vale me and I ain't coming
Back in the king's hand what is born
Everyone of them gimme they mean mug
Imma backstroke
Covered in nothing but king's blood man
I challenge anybody who think
That they got talent
That's the greatest body
You dump them at Buckingham Palace


Them am furious
Keep ice grilling is that serious
You crying but he's talking, ventriloquist
My cell phone keep ringing, am not hearing it
Your mistake thinking and am
Only your rap lyricist
Big homie sent me a message to call back
But, it's name popping up and
Nothing but smoke caps see a scarecrow
He see me coming and know black
Drink his brain out
Losing the back of his straw hat
Willie Young
(Gang up yourself, but take some of those
Everything)

Slay they said it was time to eat
So I turn the beat into sandwich meat
I put bread on it
These weak niggas can't compete
You nigga singing too much
And they got them dancing feet
I slap the shit out of them
If we ever get the chance to meet
Am a philosopher that shoot
Like a photographer
But my camera is a hammer
Y'all don't want to collide with Ka
A colostomy bags, is how you go defecate
Always ready
Only thing I set is the records straight
So go figure
Or get punch drunk with no liquor
Just a overhand
Right and a left vocal constrictor
Cock the calibre back
Get the work in my magic
And I ain't pulling no rat out
Of the side of no hat
Ftoops, I was politically incorrect
For I born for you to
Take it as literally disrespect
My click will be at your neck
You bring my name up
The proof is in the pudding
Not need I say much
But, if Blizzie was home
None a you dudes would
Be rocking these Cubans
And y'all be getting called up (called up)
If Stack Bundles was still alive
The whole cube battle be screaming
(squad up) if Sly Gillie is still
Alive, Slay still rocking
Street sweepers in this bitch
Them niggas still popping
Say something for their anniversary
Don't say nothing, just hand the purse to me
(Gang up yourself, but take some of those
Everything)

This is the king dosage
The dope is hopeless in the ring open
Cutting off the rope and hope
And lead they dreams broken
Sting don't it, brief moments I take
They make you seen notice
Need knowing, wrote it for the street poet
(keep going) , the rappers can't survive
I don't know, maybe after am alive
I hear you travel when you die
Paragraphic am a side with no
Book full of plastic bag characters provide
Your audacity go round like that
The Instagram might miss you
We go post you next picture
At you candlelight vigil
And I might visit you, or random individuals
They get you a deal
Go I bet your wife put it in you
Am way nicer than you
They hang you in the venue
My name will be continue
They got my favorite on the menu
That's work nigga
Do it till it hurts, no riddle
It's so suspenseful, church gatherings
Earth shadowing
To dirt patches turn catholic
Heard asking what they in for
The truth for thought no tin foil
Looking at the world pool
I need to get my camo, my girl cool
She play her role, my favourite soul
Could make a home
Or flame a stove for when the day get cold
OG in his robe complaining about the cold
When that old brown paper bag
Money one trader Joe
(words unclear) brick on the track
(Go take some of those, everything)