(Intro)
It ain’t just about the money
It’s nothing
Ayo what it’s about?
It’s about fuckin those skeezers like that right there
‘Cause if I’m sorry you fly ass clothes
And it’s never gonna be about nothing
Told you bout a nigga like me
(Verse)
Hey yo that shit it's getting critical
You niggas getting pitiful
Thinking minuscule
I think they think I'm in the school
No, I’m in the school and these foolish niggas who bend the rules
If you don’t want the ceiling to cave in you gotta bend the roof
Bend the truth to make a straight liar out of crooked nigga
In my hood and BK’s buckin but I ain’t a Brooklyn nigga
Look here nigga
You girl look here ‘cause this the look here nigga
It's magic
You get no looks here nigga
No, it's magic
You get no looks, here nigga
The pebble’s in the pond, only on yo first ripple
I’m Jordan’s first dribble, Larry Burr’s first triple
I beyond you niggas, a bionic rider
I’m tiger with the ion, the eye on the tiger
An icon nigga, hickin on the sun
Snappin early like I told my niggas, hike it on the on, hut
And before you get a hut 2
I’ll hunt you down and even show em that you’re hut too
Speaking of hustle, your bitch just get to the loose balls
Took er to see Jaws 2 and she gave me them 2 jaws
But my man gave me them 2 jobs
The purple that had us doin circles like we in new cars
I planted a bomb, I’m bout to bomb planets
My plan is for you niggas to go into a calm panic
Lyrical arm bandit, bombs get yo arms bandaged
One palm, planning to get your whole arm handed
Back to you then bitch I get bad to you
As I’m bad to it in that Maybach and I back through you
You ain’t bad as me, I’m bad for you and bad to you
Chop you in half nigga, you’ll happen to have to you
While having it happen to you
Do you have it at all?
I’m stabbing your doll and I don’t mean crackers and black voodoo
I’m that doodoo, matter of fact I’m a rap guru
You crap poopoo, whack gugu, I rap coocoo
Who are you? Just a nigga, I got a pryor part
And black on your track like tire marks
Attired mark, nigga I don’t buy your heart
You should go and buy a heart, try to spark a fire start – er
And throw your book in the fireplace
Retired grace, fully bully, back in his cage
Packin the mack in the back of the get
How dirty sick this miraculous shit that happened to him?
Having them hits
Happy to shit on them rappers that bitch
Choppin you bitch, grappin them bricks, we’ll hustle nigga
Just hustle harder than other niggas
‘Cause I’m for the niggas
This just don’t make above it nigga
Yea, I love my niggas
They might fuck you bummy rat
You know, when we with yo pool we never 100 back, whoa
No, homie don’t say that
We whistling in the air, homie don’t play that
Way back when I was at bumpin punch shit
Catchin every pun ‘cause cannabis had dumb flips
Eminem killed Dre and Kim and his raps
It was written, was my favorite, I slayed it to my flat rhyme for buffy
And that nigga gave me a deal
Then the feds came along and damn near gave me the chills
‘Cause they took all my niggas, my niggas took to the streets
They our studio from us, they took my hooks and my beats
But now I’m hooked, I’m a beast
And I’m back and I’m better
I was becoming the king, now I’m back for the cheddar
Pay up.
Carlos Coleman, better known by his stage name King Los or simply Los, is an American rapper and songwriter from Baltimore, Maryland. He is best known for his affiliation with American rapper Puff Daddy, having frequently served as his ghostwriter and been signed to his label, Bad Boy Records from 2005 until 2008. Coleman re-signed to the label in February 2012, although he departed once more in March 2014. His debut studio album, God, Money, War (2015), was released by RCA Records and entered the Billboard 200; Puff Daddy executive produced the album.
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