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lirik lagu third eye protege - king capital

(verse 1)
down in the bas-m-nt, up in my headsp-ce
d-mn
my parents must be proud
my timbs are black nubuck, tacos at the food truck
chubby f-ck, dont just eat sick cows
my shoes pink, the pigs red, the liquor smells like ‘big red’
homie in the big dreads bounced
waitress thick, i picture how that s-x sounds
swisher split, i fix ‘er innards, once its lit i p-ss it round
had to ask her
” do the panties match the gown”
little l!ck, i kiss the cl-t
then flip that b-tch and d-ck her down
(yo is that a bong?)
little hungry
but my granny got pegao
family p-ssed it round
“is there any bacalou? ”
(yes)
too fresh, said i look like mos def
had to do like two steps
i guess my beard gets more press
(more press)
never mimic, you’ll submit just from the stress
clever christian
“where’d you get that from, the cess?”
(yes)
switch hitter and i’m swinging for the fence
breath bitter
death litters and it lingers with the scent
grind the green, the thc is fine to meet
like rhymes and beats, but mind your peeps
i find deceit just kind of creeps, they lie and sneak
all them watching while i’m climbing with my feet
when normal people go to sleep
i start to peak…
i grab the pencil, then i “kick it” in your mental
fl!ck my bic, i spit a 6, and then i dipped before the intro…
(now im outtie)

all the b-tches that had smoked my weed
that had drank my drank, but didn’t give no pink
(hope you get no sleep…)

all the homies that had rolled my leaves
that had drank my drank, but then had dissed my st–z
(hope you get no sleep!)

(hook)
i need
king capital
cause karma doesn’t pad my clothes
and christian isn’t living for the status quo
(my third eye would not stand to close)

i need
king capital
cause karma doesn’t pad my clothes
and christian isn’t living for the status quo
(my third eye would not stand to close)

- lirik lagu third eye protege

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