Arthur McArthur - King sh** lyrics

[Intro: Yo Gotti] Oh this a hit, n***a With no words on it [Verse 1: Yo Gotti] I got on two chains, no, I ain't Tity Boi I'm dream chasing, but I ain't from Philly, boy b**h bad, and she said I can get it, boy This a hit and I'ma make a n***a feel it, boy My flow deranged, my swag insane and my campaign on ten I like the b**h, she bad as f**, but I'm really into her friend House up on the hill, got it off of c**aine Aventador Lamborghini, condo off of Biscayne b**h, I'm in my lane, fresh as hell, no stains Robin's Jean with the stones, Giuseppes match my chain I'm different, I was built for this, my b**h only rock Tiffany You a rat, you'll sing a symphony And I'm back, street's been missing me My watch silly, my clock ignorant, and I'm the king of my city I'm ban'd up and I ain't in a band But my flow just like an instrument Ba**, feel that, yellow tape of the trizack Hating is a disease, p**y, where they do that? (L.A. Reid, cut the check for me) [Verse 2: T.I.] King sh** and you know what it is Shorty smell like a pound of that loud But a n***a look like a hundred mil But I drive Ferrari, f** the motherf**ing dealer Pay ten million for a mansion, that worth more than your opinion I got racks all in my cargo pants Extended clip with that hollow, man, yo b**h a** If yo b**h bad, she get f**ed fast, ain't no romance My diamond dancing in 3D, n***a Like the Vegas strip when you see me, n***a Your money wrong and my money long And I'm playing with it like P.E., n***a Real n***a, no joke, don't think there, n***a, no ho I got mini Mac-10 and a 100 round drum In the carpet up under my car And n***a, I don't wanna smoke your weed Plain gas the only thing I smoke And I gotta thank God for the n***as off Bankhead Shorty, they taught me everything I know Like how to whip it, cook it, cut it, deal it Hand it to your partner, let him flood it through the city Really, we 'bout that action, you try us and we blasting We turnt to the max, that's a motherf**ing fact I'm a real n***a, f** these rappers [Bridge: Yo Gotti] Door up, doors down When I'm in the club, b**h, it's going down Shorty thick as f**, hands down Hands up, pants down Down, down, shorty f**ing head down I see my phone blowing up, I know it's going down Once I busted at the rapper, then it hit the town Chiefin' numbers in the city, boy, it going down [Verse 3: Yo Gotti] This that dope boy academy, them three letters been after me The F.B.I. ever catching me, my family might witness a tragedy Shorty open her legs up happily I ball hard like an athlete Young, black n***a in a big, white Phantom n***a, I look like a referee They blowing the whistle, they telling If I do the crime, I'm jailin' This b**h turned up, making it rain When I'm in the club, you yelling They talk about these Bentleys that I'm getting on the daily One feet in the game and one feet out, swear I barely made it I'ma real n***a 'til the d**h of me Never sing a song like a parakeet Fifty bands in my pocket, just blew sixty grand on that Cherokee I be gettin' money like a motherf**ing Brinks trunk Standing in the kitchen, n***a, trying to whip a brick up