Текст песни KING OF CALIFORNIA - Lil Darkie

Yeah
(Hahahahaha)
Lay 'em down, lay 'em down, lay 'em down
(Hahahaha)
Bitch
You know what the fuck goin' on
We back
Lay 'em down, lay 'em down, lay 'em down, yeah

Bitch I'm back on my shit like some TP
In the swamp like a crawfish, knee-deep
Middle finger to the feds and the PD
'till I D-I-E, it's Cali on the ID
A-R-K-I-E, bitch that's me
She want my balls in the mouth like some chai tea
Don't talk to me when I'm grubbin' bitch I'm tryna eat
Like I got OF, these rappers wanna buy a feat
20 racks or I won't even open up the Macbook
Brick 'em down, roll 'em up, smoke you like a Backwood
Bitch I'm higher than the logo for Paramount
Don't say shit unless it's something that I care about
Where is Darkie?
Don't worry 'bout my whereabouts
Looking at me wrong, grab your eyeballs and tear 'em out
The only beef I got is wagyu, bovine
Do you like a towel on a clothesline? Air 'em out

Lay 'em down, lay 'em down, lay 'em down (bow, bow, bow, bow, bow)
Bitch I feel like I'm the king of California, I need a crown
Bitch I'm a stoner, fuck a eighth I need a pound
My chopper made out of memory foam how I lay 'em down
And my Glock got a boner, he go to town
He can make it hot like Arizona when he around
I spit it sick like pneumonia in front of a crowd
I feel like the king of California, I need a crown

Bitch, bitch, bitch, bitch (ay, ay, ay, ay)
I said

I need a crown, you can put it on my head
I got bread like a bakery, you acting like a fed
How you talk to everybody like you friends?
My best friend a pad of paper and a pen
'cause I can tell him anything and he won't tell a soul
I'm homies with the stick, but I keep it on the low
And I love the microphone, 'cause he listen to me go off
I'm at your home, knock, knock, knock, kickin' in the door
Bitch, bow (bow, bow)

Shootin' like a movie
I go gorilla, give him black eyes, make 'em 2D
Boowie
To this shit I ain't a newbie
I write a song, rap it and I'm loadin' up a new beat
It's over
Trick or treat like October
My chopper tryna send 'em up to the Mars rover
Bitch
But he don't want no smoke like he sober
Watch how you talkin' to the king of California
Bitch, bow (bow)
Lay 'em down (lay 'em down), lay 'em down

Bi-bi-bitch, I feel like the king of California, I need a crown
Bitch I'm a stoner, fuck a eighth I need a pound
My chopper made out of memory foam how I lay 'em down
And my Glock got a boner, he go to town
He can make it hot like Arizona when he around
I spit it sick like pneumonia in front of a crowd
I feel like the king of California, I need a crown

Bitch
(Hahahahaha)
(Yeah)