[Verse 1]

Angels, Demons conflicting

Childhood lived lividly

I remember vividly, feel bad for the kid in me

Toughened up like infantry, ready to band don't fuck with me

Tired of humility, fuck you and your sympathy

Ima bring the symphony, the industry not ready for my ministry

I'm in the streets

Lyrically this trinity: Trauma, talent and some weed

That's what brings Gucci, Tiffany

Gotta break that family curse

Gotta fill my momma's purse

It hurts but that's alright, don't focus on the pain inside

Pinpoint why you're traumatized

Don't get charged with homicide

Turn that anguish into art and don't fucking apologize

Listen to the wise around you but don't let them prophecize

Write the script to your own life, defy the genre, no one dies

Define the drama

Vandalize the walls that antagonize and agonize

Nothing may be infinite but my success is eminent

I'm killing shit, my disk destroying shit like I am on my Krillin shit

I know you feeling it

[Chorus]

King's County, my home

This is my throne

(x4)

[Interlude]

Going to the top, I, I want it (x4)

Going to the top, but the beat gonna drop

In the basement we high, isn't that ironic?

Going to the top, I, I want it

Never gonna drop

Ironic

[Verse 2]

Doing my best to be iconic

Put five to a scale like pentatonic

See how we weight up like we was boxers

We stay linked up lowkey with voxer

I'm a proxy for the suffering

And the shuddering

And the stuttering

And the muttering

Of the weaklings, can't speak for themselves no uttering

Can I intervene with this unforeseen stroke of luck like a slot machine?

What do i have?

Not a thing, I'm just grinding like a coffee bean

And I slash it up like Wolverine

And I'm fucking ill like no vaccine

A rare breed like Dovakin

So I spit fire, know what I mean?

[Interlude]

Ima make it so my momma don't gotta drink

Ima make it so my little bro don't need a shrink

Until then all I do is think

And push this fucking rap game to the brink

[Chorus]