Blockhead - King Me lyrics

[Verse 1: Despot] Finger stuck in the nose of any shiny starter pistol Stole it and figured a riddle for the trigger finger, tickles Sends him dashing for the entrance to collapse before the middle Super rapping, super laughing, s**a standing soaked in spittle That's the sound of a trickle turning into a flood And this particular water is thicker than blood Graduate from sticking in dirt to sticking in mud All it takes is piss on your turf to convince 'em to run Head for the hills, king of those too and it fits like a glove Plus dressed to k**, Governor fists full of face with a shrug d**h to the fools finding truth at eye level with the rules I see sh** better than you from the bottom of the shoe Live from the pair of parentheses next to the wordpool He came to claim his prize taped under the bar stool And when that smile comes I won't know where to put it 'Til I carve it into someone who looks like he understood it [Hook: Despot] This is the kind of hat they give, king me High chair and a plastic ring, king me I'm proud of my fancy thing, king me Two claps and the ba*tards sing, king me [Verse 2: Despot] Get on the floor and do the cement shoe dance Sink into the new stance Look ma, two hands The smile in my heart moves to wherever the tooth lands Tasting a hefty helping of "I'm bigger than you" and Forced to kiss the ring of the same bell it was saved by s** it up, some runners-up are dumb enough to aim high Grazed by the glory of a rich man in poor taste Couldn't get the cat into the bag in the first place See him sprinting for the consolation prize at a worm's pace Cause going for the gold is a prescription to lose face Blame it on the sons of b**hes giving orders to move late Ready, set, it should've left before they brought out a new cake But blowin' out the candles always seemed trump feeding and It's a great chance to spit on the crumbs that try leaving When they all called him jolly good fellow for no reason Keeps his nose pointed up at the only air fit for breathin' While the rest say what little they got by not speakin' At best get to twiddle their thumbs and dodge treason Standing under that dunce cap by choice Never thought of sharpening those olive branches to points And join the ranks who dare to raise their hands and guess wrong Follow footsteps to the start, a sad song This little goody one-shoes with his Sunday best on Oh it's right there if I needed a toe to step on [Hook: Despot]