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Big K.R.I.T. – King, Pt. 3

Исполнители: Big K.R.I.T.
обложка песни

Текст Big K.R.I.T. – King, Pt. 3

Текст:

This is for them soul believers, eager to be achievers
And all those old folk on their porch that used to oversee us
It takes a village to stop the pillage of serpent seekers
Under protection from weapons I pray that God can keep us

We run away from things that used to reach us
Rather the Bible than a rifle, what can balling teach us?
Crossover, the pennies and loafers now we have to spend
Sitting on sofas, barely sober waiting on the end
Be a rapper or a Christian, KRIT
Cause in this game, there’s no room for that religion shit
Acrobatic flip my temper cause I remember
It’s either Heaven or Hell, and that shit simple
Fall asleep in pews the choir «Ooohs» would sooth
The battered hearts of many that life could often abuse
Who are you to mock my healing? What’s a message without feeling
I don’t care if you paid for mine, I’m just hoping that you listen
I might if we don’t talk about your top 5
Let’s just pretend all this shit ride
Turn a long road to a short drive
Overflow with ambitions, so why we wasting time?
Your inner glow ain’t for dimming, I swear you’re wasting shine
My time ain’t for spilling, so don’t be wasting mine
Don’t be wasting mine
Or I can’t

Like I left you at the podium
Niggas screaming out, «Family,» but I ain’t knowing them
Mad, cause the false love they give me, I ain’t showing them
I paid my dues, no I ain’t owing them
What’s a rock to a mountain, so why you throwing them?
Holding a, grudge nigga

When I was on 3-hunna gave a fuck about where you was, nigga
Can’t you see I’m stuck in my ways? I never budge, nigga
Where you at be content with self
Jealousy inevitably ain’t good for your health
Although I feel some type of way, I hope you acquire wealth
And never know what it’s like to have your own blood wish your own death
I’ll forget the situation, miscommunication
Could’ve been solved, just as simple as a nigga waiting
As a nigga waiting
But we can’t

In the same mind frame that got us here
Show your cards and you’re a fraud: David Copperfield
Drop a song with no heart, that shit ain’t hot for real
I told my niggas, «I might quit,» they’re like, «KRIT, you’re not for real»
Then I repeated what I said, bur even more sincere
Face hot look where we stopped, I cannot go from here
Lord, how can I flow from here?
I dropped over 200 songs, what can I show from here?
And I’ll stop with all the frustration
I respect their opinion, but I still think they’re hating
Waiting on the day that K.R.I.T Wuz Here, ain’t some shit I’m chasing
Downplaying my album, that shit was far from basic
Murder rappers, buried them on more than one occasion
And hold a candlelight vigil for the beats I’m making
Write about my life and what’s right ’til my hands is aching
Only for a nigga to look at me like, «KRIT, who the fuck you saving?»