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king of the dead (remix) - joey trap lyrics

[intro]
yeah, i’ma hit this one too
haha, yeah
ooh, ooh, yeah
haha, yeah
huh? ayy, ayy

[verse 1]
ever since a n*gga was a youngin’
i’ve been workin’ in the streets like i ain’t never seen a sidewalk
bumpin’ to my ipod shuffle while i’m shufflin’ through paper
boutta smoke another newport
new york n*gga ’cause i grew up with it
and i’ve been through h*ll, but i ain’t stop sinning
matter fact, while i was there, i stabbed the devil with his pitchfork
p*ssed off, wrists off, [?]
joey be the one to k!ll the devil for the f*ck of it
heard your girl was chicken, you know that i’m always hustlin’
lookin’ at my wrists while i’m f*ck on yo’ b*tch in public
i’m really in [?], b*tch, it’s not hard to stomach it
you really flexin’ on me with bape, i got a ton of it
salt shaker, cookin’ with your b*tch in the trap house
why the f*ck you talkin’ all that sh*t? boy, you get clapped out
ayy, catch me at your local pharmacist, ayy
flippin’ them pots like they artists, ayy
don’t give a f*ck unless i’m gettin’ paid
talkin’ that sh*t, but you don’t want my fade
ultimate fly, like my name is denzel
i got them bars like i’m fresh out of jail
legacy, hennessy, and ace of spades
why do these boys in my city still hate? sh*t

[interlude]
you like my song, right?
’bout my paper like it’s raw life
watch your block and now you baptized
we’ll watch your block and now you baptized
kloud god
this my favorite part, joey

[verse 2]
twelve years old, they really poppin’ xans
tell me what you know about a problem, flippin’ grams
had to meet the quarter to my plug don’t f*ckin’ k!ll ’em
sleepin’ outside so to scope my f*ckin’ city
police, but you wanted, if you want it, know ’bout the real me
pill poppin’, dope smokin’, b*tch f*ckin’, n*gga
never got my sh*t straight, so i’m a f*ckin’ migga
rockin’ hilfiger, even with the colors, n*gga
you talkin’ to feds, i don’t, bryson tiller
f*ckin’ on the b*tch and the b*tch don’t wanna give affection
i just hit a l!ck and i made a whole bunch of cash
but the fact is that i don’t know math
so the money counter adaptin’
when i had to have it, i wouldn’t pop any aspirin
i would smoke a blunt and then pop a percocet after it
chasin’ all my dreams, but my dreams is really just this
twenty b*tches on me and codeine all in my p*ss
runnin’ from the feds, but runnin’ from what people think
i don’t wanna chase them thoughts no more
i just wanna fly with my n*ggas, watch us soar
i ain’t finna ride with no n*ggas i ain’t walk with
you a f*ckin’ porta potty, n*gga, you just talk sh*t

[outro]
that’s all i got
that sh*t sound like that law & order theme

[outro instrumental]

- joey trap lyrics

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