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letra de you be killin' em - king los

never been a woulda coulda shoulda man
my sh-t is fab’lous de-de-de-de-de-de-d-mn,
there’s a lot of b-tch n-ggas actin’ fly now
you on the ground n-gga i jus’ brought the sky down,
need sum diamonds in your watch you could borrow mine
that’s a reminder y’all n-ggas “on borrowed time”,
and i’m feelin’ big everybody smaller den me,
so they lookin’ up to me even if they taller den me,
ye ain’t never live a word of what your mouth speakin’,
your whole sh-t made up n-gga house keepin’,
my money stack not a funny cat worry me
i hand out -ss whoopings with money back guarantees,
apparently you get hype and play roles
you talk like a pimp, but you wife and pay hoes,
i’m ’bout 8 months from that white and grey rolls,
russel sweatsuit with the breitling face froze
in them reebok cl-ssics white and grey soles
holding my nuts doing my best michael j pose,
hope you like to take notes cause you sloppy i’m perfect
so the best that you could ever do is copy my worst sh-t,
your he-rs- flip from what i’m loading in the gage
so ye ain’t gotta wait to roll over in your grave,
cavalii shades, fresh fade, gucci link on
front row at the fight light, lukki with the mink on
and my girl go harder than six compton b-tches,
red bottoms on look like she been stompin’ b-tches,
yea we gettin’ them amounts you will never see
i got a brick o’ swag for every ounce of your jealousy,
from what they tellin’ me, i seem to be the man,
a boutique boy that cop sneakers in j-pan
lampin’ on the island jus’ to see a decent tan
so have my money in total — “kima keisha pam”,
all this ice on my wrist that’s a risk factor
you wouldn’t need this much ice for a wrist fracture,
and roll wit a clique full a chick sn-tchers
so we didn’t really want your b-tch it was just practice…
i fl!ck ashes off a yacht deck
all i do is come to a chin like a mock neck,
stop that i’m from a hood where they never smile
n-ggas make that tre pop like kevin liles,
my city never blink they be thinkin’ cash
and stay clappin’ on a n-gga like pinky -ss,
that thing flash they sn-tch chains and karats
gettin’ that dirty money no ‘last train to paris’
so to all you rap lames and other suckas
i bet this mack maine’ll leave you in the gudda gudda,
motherf-cker spend a day in these streets and see
n-ggas’ll do the ‘unthinkable’ for at least a key
uhhh and as soon as them feds swing through
they draked on you d-mn i ain’t know you sing too,
king who? run what? we can all -ssume
you got knocked cause all your goons use autotune
meanwhile i lebron ball, john wall,
give me the mic i give ’em the light sean paul
haters stay tuned i got a lot of sh-t in store
best to ever do it next stop bidding war…

- king los

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