Sinner to a King
I get the bag regardless
Catch me trappin' at the party
I ain't no regular artist
They categorize me greatest in the margin
I'm here to eat get 'em starvin'
I see you be try'na start shit
Hold up I ain't even started
Metro Metro 'bout to beg me for my pardon
The clock it be tickin
Now i gotta make a livin' with this shit
Few things on the list
For I get to see you bitches
Yeah I probably made a million
I don't need ya recognition
Bitch i'm on my own shit
With it or not
You gon' follow this trend
What's this shit?
(Like what's this shit?)
Tryna make me believe that you try'na expand
Shut the fuck up and suck my dick
Lil white boy but I go hard as fuck
Happen to see to me you all betta duck
Watch me hop out the truck
Tank top in my pants and it's tucked
What you see is my dick not a gun
No you don't gotta run,
Know the show's not done
I'm only beginning
They say I'm the one
Told me I was chosen
Told me I was dumb
I'm out of emotions
Now I feel numb
Like the wind in winter
Yeah my shooters finna shoot
From a sinner to a king
Yeah ruler's finna rule
Can't touch my moola
Unless ya name Dua
All you fake hoes don't don't really do it
You stuck like a tumor
But dead like a rumor
Cross my path I clear the room up
Like the wind in winter
Yeah my shooters finna shoot
From a sinner to a king
Yeah ruler's finna rule
Can't touch my moola
Unless ya name Dua
All you fake hoes don't don't really do it
You stuck like a tumor
But dead like a rumor
Cross my path I clear the room up
Pussy good she a prostitute
Call it contraband
Got an attitude
Say i'm not ya man
Well you not my bitch
I get 'em demand
I got a lot to do
And you a fuckin' fan
Run up the bands
Smoke a blunt in the benz
It was always the plan honey
Think I was high like a mountain
When i made that statement
I stand on it
Don't act like you don't got a day job
Motherfuckers broke but they got a face tat
I do it for the money might get a bank robbed
Now ain't that something bitch
Like the wind in winter
Yeah my shooters finna shoot
From a sinner to a king
Yeah ruler's finna rule
Can't touch my moola
Unless ya name Dua
All you fake hoes don't don't really do it
You stuck like a tumor
But dead like a rumor
Cross my path I clear the room up
Catch me trappin' at the party
I ain't no regular artist
They categorize me greatest in the margin
I'm here to eat get 'em starvin'
I see you be try'na start shit
Hold up I ain't even started
Metro Metro 'bout to beg me for my pardon
The clock it be tickin
Now i gotta make a livin' with this shit
Few things on the list
For I get to see you bitches
Yeah I probably made a million
I don't need ya recognition
Bitch i'm on my own shit
With it or not
You gon' follow this trend
What's this shit?
(Like what's this shit?)
Tryna make me believe that you try'na expand
Shut the fuck up and suck my dick
Lil white boy but I go hard as fuck
Happen to see to me you all betta duck
Watch me hop out the truck
Tank top in my pants and it's tucked
What you see is my dick not a gun
No you don't gotta run,
Know the show's not done
I'm only beginning
They say I'm the one
Told me I was chosen
Told me I was dumb
I'm out of emotions
Now I feel numb
Like the wind in winter
Yeah my shooters finna shoot
From a sinner to a king
Yeah ruler's finna rule
Can't touch my moola
Unless ya name Dua
All you fake hoes don't don't really do it
You stuck like a tumor
But dead like a rumor
Cross my path I clear the room up
Like the wind in winter
Yeah my shooters finna shoot
From a sinner to a king
Yeah ruler's finna rule
Can't touch my moola
Unless ya name Dua
All you fake hoes don't don't really do it
You stuck like a tumor
But dead like a rumor
Cross my path I clear the room up
Pussy good she a prostitute
Call it contraband
Got an attitude
Say i'm not ya man
Well you not my bitch
I get 'em demand
I got a lot to do
And you a fuckin' fan
Run up the bands
Smoke a blunt in the benz
It was always the plan honey
Think I was high like a mountain
When i made that statement
I stand on it
Don't act like you don't got a day job
Motherfuckers broke but they got a face tat
I do it for the money might get a bank robbed
Now ain't that something bitch
Like the wind in winter
Yeah my shooters finna shoot
From a sinner to a king
Yeah ruler's finna rule
Can't touch my moola
Unless ya name Dua
All you fake hoes don't don't really do it
You stuck like a tumor
But dead like a rumor
Cross my path I clear the room up
Credits
Writer(s): Tristan Desjourdy
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
Link
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