Kings lyrics by Lupe Fiasco - original song full text. Official Kings lyrics, 2024 version | LyricsMode.com
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Lupe Fiasco – Kings lyrics
[Verse 1]
As I proceed to go dig through an old crib
Hold kids as I plunder through a pharaoh house
Thug Bones in gilded apparel piss
But arrow heads then let the marrow out
I literally won't leave litter since I've received the Brita
And when the sea leaves the land, who will feed the rivers, huh?
Crazy busy, make me, make me miss ya even when I'm with ya
If a phone calls in the club, but the music is too loud around to hear it
Do I still have to clear it?
Example: now I don’t let samples in my lyrics
Myth be told, 60 souls perished in the parish bill
Wrote a pair of wills on 50 scrolls with a pair of quills
Answered the question 'Americause?' Amerikills
Been living inside in envelopes with a pair of sills
Tall man like terror bills downfall from a pair of stilts wearin' heels, that's high
As I proceed to find silver line in a stalagmite
Cat eyes and scarab crowns on a black grace
Too wave, not to see bubonic plague in your rat face
Practice on the uttering until it lactates
Then begin the buttering of the pancakes
Push it to the margin flood the garden to the land lakes
Associate with mates who spit inside of they handshakes, yeah
(Pharaoh, pharaoh, pharaoh)
Yeah, yeah, yeah

[Verse 2]
As I walk through the shadow of San Fernando Valley
Walkin' like fingers how, how they rally on pianos
Up and down the dial until I WKRP, in Cincinnati
Let's settle on the station like "Last gas for 100 miles"
May I have this last dance?
Grab her hands then proceed to do the runnin' child
Vindaloo the stomach growls, introduced to somethin' wild
Until we see civilization, Walmarts and Chik-a-fallacious
Patience, our art isn't intimidation
But you can't process the progress
If you get your style cues from outta Complex
Nah nigga, that ain't hot
No, no and no shots, no boas and no thots
I walk 'em over the motorboat on the yachts
To go so sober on all the shirk and on overdose on salats, huh?
Francis Ford Coppola’s spoken plots
Hyannis Port localists rollin' in open drops
Titanic corpse smokin' from openin' those with chops
Lycanic moonlit leader loc'in with loaded Glocks, huh!
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