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time's up: king - kulprit d lyrics

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[verse]
it’s the host with the most. give a d-mn what kendrick say
i’m the king of all coasts
we burn l’s, they tuck tails
if you step you like a lawn chair: real likely to fold
’cause kulprit’s the one with the coldest of flows
i’m the chosen one. probably get props from 2pac if he rose up
and roll up with bad girls like oxygen. acknowledge them but
still be real hip-hop
tryna end this whack obsession with diss tracks
b—h, “gat” is just a word unless you can present straps!
not saying i can. but i spit crack, so what’s the need for that?
i never rata-tat-tat. and it’s sad when a young gang member
will k!ll his own for a kit kat
i’m in my zone, where your b—h at?
we need to have a chit chat about your b—h a–
and this gr-ss is pretty good, but i’m enjoying more
of what’s in this gl-ss
x and em had the rock but they p-ssed it
to me. but now ya’ll gotta think fast, kid
i’m fantastic, gotta blast it. we all know
rap’s going to h-ll in a prada hand basket
a-g-a-t-e-w-a-y-d-r-u-g
is what i tell music groups who ask, “are you free?”
take a number, get in line. your crew puttin’ in work?
well, we doing overtime
four styles, four att-tudes
four white-a– crackers who are blacker than you
they don’t want us to rap it’s true
they said, “there’s rules.” then tried to break us
but we just broke all the rules
check out these bars, son. i murk with these
murk with these
got these girls screaming like “hercules! hercules!”
droppin’ it all down on me. better pop that
kulprit is taking a moment just to -sigh- rap!
these might be what puts me on the map
even if not i just had to (snaps)
and get my mac on like bernie
who knew a rap song could justify the use of a gurney?
i’m like cube, i’m a predator
music my wife, i stay two steps ahead of her
addressed compet-tion but got back my letter, bruh
return to sender, there are no compet-tors
there’s levels to this ish
turn the beat up, what are the levels in this b—h?
jersey on me, batting switch
one thousand average
who’s the hottie? that’s my chick
you getting none. catholic
i’m first round draft pick
and i can ball in dallas– maverick
don’t get to delicate ’cause n-body’s
tryna f with ya– celibate
this for the motive not for the h-ll of it
victory; i love the smell of it
i don’t think that you’re hearing me
screw being a boss, this is tyranny
but don’t call me a king ’cause a king’s low
and he ain’t out in the streets with his people
i’m in the building, and you out of luck
throw your watch in the air, because your time’s up

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