DESCRIPTION:
I speak of that certain/ cult of the black virgin/back hurting cotton picking kings yea we're Nat Turning hate to love/ the matrix drugs it does deface your mug now face is uuuuugly / yes Akin is to some chicks a Penis / blame it on my pops he mixed the coke with the Guiness before he entered mommy/ now it's all inside me/ a flow Modigliani/ so I'll die before they crown me with female nudes around me and my army in Miami/ like fuck it we're so Yanni to this bullshit around we...Kings,Dreams...
So here it go the ebb and flow/ no Webbie though they wipe me down from head to toe/ now how that sound,a metaphor to better folk/ we're made of gold not platinum fool,you forgot and sold your soul(repeat3x) blast for me the shock value or what have you/ I spit it,may it all grab you in/ then you can comprehend my friend/ fuck a innuendo in the end they'll fuck you again so/ this is so me believe every word,arrow of God still high/ we ain't never scared