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t.i. - king sh*t lyrics

oh this a hit n-gga
with no words on it

i got on two chains, but, no, i ain’t t-ty boi
i’m dream chasin’, but i ain’t from philly boy
b-tch bad, and she said that i can get it boy
this a hit and i’m a make a n-gga feel it boy
my flow on range, my swag’s insane
and my campaign on ten, i like the b-tch
she down to f-ck, but i’m really into her friend
house up on the hill, got it off of cocaine
aventador lamborghini, condo off of biscayne
b-tch i’m in my lane, fresh as h-ll, no stains
robert jeans with the stones, giuseppe man’s my chain
i’m different, i was built for this, my b-tch only rock tiffany
you rat, you’ll sing a symphony and i’m back, city been missing me
my watch silly my clock ignorant and i’m the king of my city
i’m banned up and i ain’t in a band
but my flow just like an instrument
b-ss, feel that, yellow tape of the trizack
hating is a disease, p-ssy where they do that?

l.a. reid cut the check for me
king sh-t and you know what it is
shawty smell like a pound of that loud, but a n-gga look like a hundred mill
but i drive ferrari, f-ck the motherf-ckin dealer
pay 10 million for a mansion, that worth more than your opinion
i got racks all in my cargo pants
standard clip with that hollow man, yo’ b-tch -ss
if yo b-tch bad, she get f-cked fast, ain’t no romance
my diamond dancing in 3d n-gga
like a bank strip when you see me, n-gga
your money wrong and my money long
and i’m playing with it like pe n-gga
real n-gga no joke, don’t think there n-gga no ho
i got mini mac-10 and a 100 round drum
in the carpet up under my car
and n-gga i don’t wanna smoke your weed, plain gas the only thing i smoke
and i gotta thank god for the n-ggas off bankhead
shawty, they taught me everything i know
like how to whip it, cook it, cut it, deal it
hand it to your partner let him flood through the city
really, we bout that action, you try us and we blastin’
we turnt to the max that’s a motherf-cking fact
i’m a real n-gga, f-ck these rappers

door up, doors down
when i’m in the club, b-tch it’s going down
shawty think it f-cked, hand down, hands up, pants down
down, down, shawty f-ckin head down
i see my phone blowing up, i know it’s going down
once i busted at the rapper, then it hit the town
check the numbers in the city, boy it going down

this that dope boy academy, them three letters been after me, (who?)
the f.b.i. ever catchin me, my family my witness a tragedy
shorty open her legs up happily
i ball hard like an athlete
young black n-gga in a big white phantom
n-gga, i look like a referee n-gga
they blowing the whistle they telling
i do the clam i’m chilling
this b-tch turned up making rain
when i’m in the club you yellin
they talk about these bentley’s that i’m gettin on the daily
one feet in the game and one feet out, swear i barely made it
i’m a real n-gga till the death of me
never sing a song like a parakeet
50 bandz in my pocket just blew 60 grand on that cherokee
i be gettin money like a motherf-ckin brinks trunk
standing in the kitchen, n-gga, trying to build a brick up, uh!

- t i lyrics

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