I’m just stuntin’on my ex bitch
Flexin’ on my Malcolm X shit
I’m just stuntin’on my ex bitch
Flexin’ on my Malcolm X shit

Conscience boil, boy you
Come to L.A the cops want to dodge your hat
Got the shoppers for ya
Why did I do that?
Defend that practice like a doctor’s lawyer
Or a Georgetown hoya
A double entendere for ya
Without rhyme skills
You got the conic career time kills
I’m just a [?] watchin’ a clock destroy ya
I’m still here, Crooked sit on the kxng’s throne
I still know this hoes ain’t loyal
Just like that Umar’s ringtone
Yeah bad and boujee is the theme song
But I never put pussy on a pedestal that my dream’s on
Like Mart’ Luther, got the heart of a leader
True to the art form
Like little Michael Jackson pouring out his heart to Maria
Hits on my soul departs with alias
The true speaker, I wish Barack would’ve pardon Malia… fuck it!
I spit in the dark makin’ harder to see ’em
The booth even darker than rooms that photographers be in
The reincarnation the king… is an honor to be him
I bury artist like artefacts I should start a musseum
‘Cause this is, fly MC’ing, Cashmere pea coat
I came hard at 2016, but that was last year’s deep throat
This year I’m sonin’ niggas so watch your father put the game to sleep
And rape it, until you’re damn near T.O.,
The number one spot is what I’m commin’ after
I’m in the strip club turnin’ up with the mumble rappers
But I never fucked with actors, since I was young and active
I hung with nothin’ but low key ballers than humble factors
Was got tell pages and brick phones, big chrome
Tuck by the hip bone, 66 bones sittin’ on gold Daytons
As asses on…
Is on my DNA to rep the west on you haters
But sometimes I hate the way we sound
Even our best songs
That’s why I wish Pac’ would’ve had his vest on in Vegas

But, as we proceed, to give you wwhat wwhat
Yyyou you mee
Shouts out to…

Hey dub C, what if you threw a toones day?
Come together every year in L.A, playin’ what toones played, (RIP!)
I’ll be right there with C.O.B. my for life crew
Yellin “rest in peace Ricky Harris and Big Syke too!”

So much trouble in the world nigga
Can nobody feel your pain

Sometimes the weather’s similar to the cash throw family
That’s a never ending rain, but the sun is shinin’ ‘gain
And a mist of millionaire entertainers who’re tryin’a bane
I’m just fine in my own lane, so I can remain Kxng!
I still squeeze steel and spit the hot science
50 cent and meek mill dream chase of die tryin’
I ain’t lyin’, sometimes I feel like I’m recitin” in asylums
With visions of dying’ after firin’ my iron at the siren
‘Cause I’m ridin’ with more heathens than 21 Pilots
You sleepin’, the floor’ll open up anyone eye lids
When it’s done the shoes won’t be anyone size fits all
All sharon lee legacy, ’cause the shit he’s done is ice men
And the city done, really comes with pretty young side chicks
Silly dummy the city wants my shit

I’m just stuntin’on my ex bitch
Flexin’ on my Malcolm X shit
I’m just stuntin’on my ex bitch
Flexin’ on my Malcolm X shit

Forever C.O.B. let’s win
Peace to the grinders
Active let’s go
Get the fuck outta here