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pumpkinhead - county of kings (main) lyrics

ph ft. sha stimuli, skyzoo, ruste juxx, and l.r. blitzkrieg – “county of kings”
[emcee(s): sha stimuli, ph, skyzoo, ruste juxx, and l.r. blitzkrieg]
[producer(s): beatgees]

[intro: sha stimuli]
yeah. pumpkinhead, i got you, man (brooklyn!). s-t-i. look

[verse 1: sha stimuli]
i got the pain of a k!ller, the soul of a preacher, the mind of a teacher
the hurt of a hustler. i’ll touch you when i come through your speakers
the swag of a rapper, the dream of a youngin to be what he loves, and
the people are bugging. you motherfuckers see why i’m buzzing
i walked through the fire, i swam with the sharks
i incited riots, took shots in the dark
i gave people light, let out music from my heart
i spoke on instrumentals. i’m setting myself apart
i am bk-born. gifted since i was
an infant, spitting way before my first sentence
i’m showing you consistence, my flow is just senseless
i keep going—it’s endless. i’m sort of offensive
you don’t want to go against this. i’ll fuck around and make
you stop getting older like you’re one of the simpsons
d-mn. i wasn’t stole by the grinch, but they
call me the present. some of y’all don’t get it
stimuli, nigga

[verse 2: ph]
we from where kings is everywhere, fathers is never there, where they
clap chrome, the backbone of the eastern hemisphere
you shop on rodeo drive? we shop on fulton ave
you ride in limousines? we ride in dollar vans
your favorite rapper’s alive? my favorite rapper died
if you an outcast, you get cast out and cast aside
if you put a nine-year-old on blast, he might blast
a nine. the flyest borough too thorough—you can’t deny
county of kings, all our rappers run things. get off
the d-ck, take our b-lls out your mouth like a tongue ring
we set trends you follow. we get ends
you borrow. you gets no pussy. homie, we stay bend-
-ing models. we’re the illest, so holler. we’ve been given
the honor to pay homage to our forefathers that started
this problem. all day, it’s bk, stimuli
ph, ruste, blitz, and sk. hey!

[hook: skyzoo]
we represent
the bk. that’s 7-1-8 thang, that’s
7-1-8 bang, that’s 7-1-8 slang. it’s
the bk (uh) and we ain’t never changed
we’re still on the same thing until the day that we’re laid
it’s the bk. that’s 7-1-8 thang, that’s
7-1-8 bang, that’s 7-1-8 slang. it’s
the bk (uh) and we ain’t never changed
we’re still on the same thing until the day that we’re laid
yeah

[interlude 1: ruste juxx]
uh. yeah. yo

[verse 3: ruste juxx]
straight out of bk, nigga, from k!ller crown heights
ruste juxx light up the dark and shine bright
my aim’s sharpshooter. i’ll flame and spark buddha
trained to bark rugers, my jab’ll park judah
my pen game vicious. nigga, i’m indestructible
can’t be destroyed. you can’t see the boy
the excellence of execution executing excellence
poetic piff-puffing, potency perfectionist
repping brooknam. you know? that crookland
leaving niggas limbless with artificial hook hands
i’ll let the shottie go—sternum shot, body blow
“ruste juxx” name ringing all through your barrio
trust me. when i pull that bird, them slugs flying
bullseye, direct hit, they’re all dying
see, my environment is a product of me
now all my brooklyn niggas wild with a g. brooklyn!

[verse 4: l.r. blitzkrieg]
separate you sheep from these monsters
don’t ever sleep on these brooklyn beasts
your heartbeat’ll sound like the b-ss of this beat
lighting in, i ignite the whole street
we keep cartridges that can part your cartilage
cut your body parts up in sarcophagus sands. these
artists is setting up shop. we do not cower—we c-ck
back, roof your corny shit right over the clocktower
block shower diss grain, onlookers cover heads
in disdain, ‘cause you was outdated as discmanes
while this mayne’s an east coast emissary, downtown
dignitary, brooklyn military blitzkrieg
uh. you can’t beat this mofo
so you should grin and bear it like the beatgees logo
see, krieg is known from out the seven-one-ocho
being so fucking cool, he can move in slow mo
bk’s the captain of the ship for this rapping shit
you’re rapping circles in this market? we gon’ corner it
and i was wandering. i vaguely remember: as
a baby, held up a king—nah, wait, that was simba shit
this ain’t no cartoon. it’s your favorite car tune
mcmi, the better era gonna start soon
forever helping you get the pictures like dark rooms
and get the point like prison and shanking you with a sharp spoon
uh

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