THE DEVICE: Dark Night Records MixTape vol.2 (FREE DOWNLOAD)

                       

Down With The King

03:16 Download
D.N.A.

Lyrics

- VERSE -
Down with the king, the pres and prime minister/
the clergy men and all them swine sinister/
shit is uneven like prime intigers/
let's make incisions, apply vinegar/
administer vendetta when I spit a verse/
process thoughts every second by the gigahertz/
make these rich crackers say "Gee willikers"/
a hoard of villagers surround their perimeter/
I'm so high, you need an altimeter/
to reach a mindstate that's even similar/
my motormouth roars like 12 cylinders/
I dot my i's and my L's are perpendicular/
I cross my T's and breeze through these syllables/
highjack the industry like John Dillenger/
life's a bitch, bet I stick a dick in her/
don't want a fanbase, I want some listeners/
America is full of narrow minded prisoners/
every word I speak, treated like a visitor/
never gullible, be an inquisitor/
don't seek permission from a crooked ass commisioner/

- VERSE -
It's Saturday night, the party just begun/
I'm already drunk off my ass tryin' to have a little fun/
swinging two blunts like sparklers/
lookin' for the hottest chick on the dance floor, to get on top of her/
when I drink too much, niggaz - they can't stand me/
I show my ass worse than O.D.B. did at the Grammy's/
I got an evil streak that lives inside of me/
calm one sec, the next - I'm up beatin' your ass violently/
quit eyein' me son, why I think you tryin' me?/
let's see if you can breathe at the bottom of the sea/
whack emcees sweatin' techniques/
duck down & hidin' behind cliched races of whack ass beats/
y'all 'bout to get paid a visit by the lyrical police/
in one last effort to restore Hip-Hop's peace/
so if you're rhyming and you get rushed by twenty armed men/
it's not because you suck, just fit the description/

- VERSE -

- VERSE -
Two years ago Mr. Henry's mind/
got sick of rappers' empty rhymes/
so I said this rhyme I'm about to say/
and you either down to stay/
or get up out the way/
Yo, down with these manufactured, bogus-ass counterfit/
make believe, wannabe, self-elected, coward-bitch/
"kings" of the south, "kings" of the NYC/
4th grade writing skills, unenlightening/
record label puppets, y'all could never be conscious/
you ain't runnin' shit but popularity contests/
let's have a little talk, pull up a chair and be honest/
man I'm dead serious like a terrorist bomb threat/
if you're a king, what kind of legacy you leaving?/
you ain't lead no revolution where the enemy's retreating/
if you're a king, why you pimpin' the community?/
you're all about dollars, that's the difference between you and me/
if you're a king, why you want World War IV?/
we're out here poor, and you get more, more, more/
money in the bank, you ain't nothing but a celebrity/
a five year fad, what a fucked up legacy/