Krit is
King of the south/Concious freestyle/ King pt 4 lyrically >>>> Coles
want to see here who do people deem as the better lyricist between the two
but Krit is superior
Early like the mornin', yawnin', wipe the crust from my third eye
To peep the true intentions of buzzards
Flock and chirp like they're lovers, but pull their talons in public
Scratch you out like the lotto, these nikkas hoes for the ducket's, I swear
Cause money make nikkas change like dollar bills
Seen it once or twice, nikka blocked your life, that shyt for real
Brutus came through thrice and he murked out Caesar after all them years
Now what makes you think your shyt don't stink and you won't get killed
Cause always someone riding, rolling their eyes
At the fact I'm a king and I'm so modest about my rivalries from
Other kingdoms, it's such an oddity that being humble could be a sign of weakness
When they know that I know that I body them so
Why waste the cavalry? No need for casualties
When nikkas know that their time is up, like what the fukk they rhymin' for?
What these labels signing for? It's hard to find it comical
Cause this ain't Saturday Night Live, no adlib, no high five, just chess moves
I wreck that shyt, never peck that shyt, bytch, how dare you?
I'm my only competition, there's no one else to compare to
Unless it's Zeus or Thor
Or a mystical creature that only eat beats and emcees so feed me more
I wonder if all this hard work really gonna pay up
While laying up in the villa with broads that's dying for me to slay on
Not even tripping on blog sites 'cause they draw light to them haters
Could let a nikka tell it, them nikkas is jealous comment on my flavors
Favors, shyt I don't do them hoes lately
Big frontyard, big backyard, have 'em send smoke signals to my neighbors
Got a driveway around my way, you a quarterback throwing papers
I ain't worried 'bout no jack boy, these white folks pullin' capers
Where I stay and I bet they think I'm a dopeboy
Cause I walk that way, and I talk that way to them folk boy
Sit my rims on the curb, Captain Phillips couldn't sail where I float, boy
Was a hustler at birth, I could sell Mr. Clean some soap boy
Been a while since I feel like talking that shyt
Over-confident, common sense, commonly that we get
Honesty is a commodity, similes ain't my shyt
I could say it's popping for sure, you probably think I'm frying fish
Maybe I was, ho
Cause dropping a boombox in your bathtub was the only way you could buzz mo'
And yeah, that's cutthroat
But it's slice her neck or cut a check
It ain't my shyt if It ain't wrecked
It must be y'alls if it was stepped on
Yo bytch a freak, fukked her to sleep
And that was the last time I was slept on
shyt, I woke up and fukked her again so she ain't sleep long, nikka
King of the south/Concious freestyle/ King pt 4 lyrically >>>> Coles
want to see here who do people deem as the better lyricist between the two
but Krit is superior
Early like the mornin', yawnin', wipe the crust from my third eye
To peep the true intentions of buzzards
Flock and chirp like they're lovers, but pull their talons in public
Scratch you out like the lotto, these nikkas hoes for the ducket's, I swear
Cause money make nikkas change like dollar bills
Seen it once or twice, nikka blocked your life, that shyt for real
Brutus came through thrice and he murked out Caesar after all them years
Now what makes you think your shyt don't stink and you won't get killed
Cause always someone riding, rolling their eyes
At the fact I'm a king and I'm so modest about my rivalries from
Other kingdoms, it's such an oddity that being humble could be a sign of weakness
When they know that I know that I body them so
Why waste the cavalry? No need for casualties
When nikkas know that their time is up, like what the fukk they rhymin' for?
What these labels signing for? It's hard to find it comical
Cause this ain't Saturday Night Live, no adlib, no high five, just chess moves
I wreck that shyt, never peck that shyt, bytch, how dare you?
I'm my only competition, there's no one else to compare to
Unless it's Zeus or Thor
Or a mystical creature that only eat beats and emcees so feed me more
I wonder if all this hard work really gonna pay up
While laying up in the villa with broads that's dying for me to slay on
Not even tripping on blog sites 'cause they draw light to them haters
Could let a nikka tell it, them nikkas is jealous comment on my flavors
Favors, shyt I don't do them hoes lately
Big frontyard, big backyard, have 'em send smoke signals to my neighbors
Got a driveway around my way, you a quarterback throwing papers
I ain't worried 'bout no jack boy, these white folks pullin' capers
Where I stay and I bet they think I'm a dopeboy
Cause I walk that way, and I talk that way to them folk boy
Sit my rims on the curb, Captain Phillips couldn't sail where I float, boy
Was a hustler at birth, I could sell Mr. Clean some soap boy
Been a while since I feel like talking that shyt
Over-confident, common sense, commonly that we get
Honesty is a commodity, similes ain't my shyt
I could say it's popping for sure, you probably think I'm frying fish
Maybe I was, ho
Cause dropping a boombox in your bathtub was the only way you could buzz mo'
And yeah, that's cutthroat
But it's slice her neck or cut a check
It ain't my shyt if It ain't wrecked
It must be y'alls if it was stepped on
Yo bytch a freak, fukked her to sleep
And that was the last time I was slept on
shyt, I woke up and fukked her again so she ain't sleep long, nikka
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