King Of The Hill Lyrics by JamWayne & Marcotic
(Feat. Marcotic)
This for Alabama, back to the field
We coming for the kill
All my brothers made it to farm
We about to sell a mill
They thought we been laying low, homie
We riding through the fields
We don’t sell no propane, but we been the kings of the hill
Alabama, back to the field
We coming for the kill
All my brothers made it to farm
We about to sell a mill
They thought we been laying low, homie
We riding through the fields
We don’t sell no propane, but we been the kings of the hill
Country fried, hell yeah
Twist it up and take a reel
Rolling up, pour high, slanging mud, shifting gears
Stay up in the moonlight, in the woods, in the fields
Picking up my brother down in Bama, headed to the bills
Walked and taught me, they say keep away
I’m being grenade, ain’t in the way
Then keep it that way
No, we ain’t the same
This home of the brave
Know that
War tide wild, can’t fuck with the fam
Get your old head cracked
Smack the, get a good fix
Load up the ville, about to buy my by six
Yeah, on the road, I’m thriller
Bear been asleep, took a nap in the truck
Summertime heat, fall in the winter
Cold whiskey with whiskers
Mud on the, stay with the siss
Putting in work, never going to quit
This for the fam, I’m the born with the steel
Pour it to the sun and do it again
This for Alabama, back to the field
We coming for the kill
All my brothers made it to farm
We about to sell a mill
They thought we been laying low, homie
We riding through the fields
We don’t sell no propane, but we been the kings of the hill
Alabama, back to the field
We coming for the kill
All my brothers made it to farm
We about to sell a mill
They thought we been laying low, homie
We riding through the fields
We don’t sell no propane, but we been the kings of the hill
Ain’t the type to raw raw
This going to set the streets on fire
Some OGs don’t like me, said fuck on my toe, don’t go retire
Bitch, I’m out the trailer
My fences ain’t wrapped in barb wire
Fuck your tour bus
We you, we need I hope you blow a tire
TikTok, that street talking politic
I hope my enemies see me
Yeah, this going to make them sick
Bitch, say my name
I send some ass like a tick
Crush them like a bug
Fuck around and you going get flicked
Yeah, pull up late and I can’t see my face
I got a bandana
Who taught you manners?
I might have to come and smack your nannies
We got big bananas
I ain’t talking fruit
You people packing mag, scared to shoot
Can’t put you on the news
In like a shooting stars
It’s a new year, we had to raise the bar
This for Alabama, back to the field
We coming for the kill
All my brothers made it to farm
We about to sell a mill
They thought we been laying low, homie
We riding through the fields
We don’t sell no propane, but we been the kings of the hill
Alabama, back to the field
We coming for the kill
All my brothers made it to farm
We about to sell a mill
They thought we been laying low, homie
We riding through the fields
We don’t sell no propane, but we been the kings of the hill