KING OF CALIFORNIA Lyrics – Lil Darkie
Yeah
(Hahahahahaha)
Lay ’em down, lay ’em down, lay ’em down
(Hahahaha)
***
You know what the *** goin’ on
We back
Lay ’em down, lay ’em down, lay ’em down, yeah
*** I’m back on my *** like some TP (Ugh)
In the swamp like a crawfish, knee-deep (Yuh)
Middle finger to the feds and the P.D.
Till I D-I-E it’s Cali on the I.D.
A-R-K-I-E *** that’s me (Yuh)
She want my balls in her mouth like some chai tea
Don’t talk to me when I’m grubbin’ *** I’m tryna’ eat
Like I got O.F, these rappers wanna buy a feat
20 racks or I won’t even open up the MacBook
Break ’em down roll him up, smoke you like a Backwood
*** I’m higher than the logo for Paramount
Don’t say *** unless it’s somethin’ that I care about (Yeah)
Where’s Darkie?
Don’t worry ’bout my whereabouts
Looking at me wrong, grab yo’ eyeballs and tear ’em out
The only beef I got is wagyu, bovine
Do you like a towel on a clothesline, air ’em out
Lay ’em down, lay ’em down (Bow, bow, bow, bow, bow)
Lay ’em down
*** I feel like I’m the King of California, I need a crown
*** I’m a stoner, *** an eighth I need a pound
My Choppa made of memory foam, how it lay ’em down (Yeah)
And my Glock got a boner, he go to town
He can make it hot like Arizona when he around (Boom)
I spit it sick, like pneumonia in front a crowd
I feel like the King of California, I need a crown
*** (Ay)
*** (Ay)
*** (Ay)
*** (Ay)
I said
I need a crown, you can put in on my head
I got bread like a bakery, you actin’ like a fed
How you talk to everybody like you friends?
My best friend a pad of paper and a pen
‘Cause I can tell him anything and he don’t tell a soul
I’m homies with the stick, but I keep it on the low
And I love the microphone, ’cause he listen to me go off
I’m at your home knock, knock, knock, kickin’ in the door
*** bow (Bow, bow)
Shootin’ like a movie
I go gorilla, give ’em black eyes, make em 2D
Boowee
To this ***, I ain’t a newbie
I write a song, rap it and I’m loadin’ up a new beat
It’s over
Trick or treat like October
My choppa tryna’ send ’em up to the Mars rover
***
But he don’t want no smoke like he sober
Watch how you talkin’ to the King of California
***, bow (Bow, bow)
Lay ’em down, lay ’em down, lay ’em down
Bi-Bi-*** I feel like I’m the King of California, I need a crown (Yuh)
*** I’m a stoner, *** an eighth I need a pound
My choppa made of memory foam, how it lay ’em down
And my Glock got a boner, he go to town
He can make it hot like Arizona when he around (Boom)
I spit it sick, like pneumonia in front a crowd
I feel like the King of California, I need a crown
***
(Hahahahaha)
(Yeah)