KING OF CALIFORNIA

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)