Satta King Lyrics – Southside Wholigans

Yea, I walk through the corridor I’m thinking this shit’s over
Got me feeling paranoid, I’m looking over my shoulder
But I’m blinded by the lights, and now my breath is getting shorter
It’s about to be our time, I’ma preach it like I told ya

Boutta induce you like a cobra, you about to feel my fangs
Hypnotize the world just from wearing diamond chains
I can tell you without a doubt that you and I are not the same
‘Cause I do this for myself, I don’t do it for no fame

It’s a shame that all of you are in the game
‘Bout to run it up, and now y’all speaking on my name
Had to switch it up, yea I do my own thang
Smoking on that gas we just rolled the romain

It’s a shame that all of you are in the game
‘Bout to run it up, and now y’all speaking on my name
Had to switch it up, yea I do my own thang
Smoking on that gas we just rolled the romain

I just want to meet my maker
Riding in the cut, it’s 2 AM, I’m on my way to meet you
Greet you, see you gotta take me in
‘Cause I got some issues, ballin’ with new issue

Praying to the dead just to tell them I miss you
I just keep falling into a deeper hole
Keep getting lost, asking where do I go
Yea, I keep moving up, but I still feel low

It’s like no matter how much I climb, there’s just nowhere to go
Yea, they hating on me ’cause I got evil in genes
That’s my DNA with a mix of promethazine
Got you guessing like you playing a game of Satta King

I’m on game while you taking pictures with a fiend
Play it like I’m playing Satta and I do it with the partners
Grimy motherfucker, slimy from the empty gutter

Thinking ’bout the guns and butter
Peeping through the shutters did I motherfucking stutter?
Ain’t nobody messing with the thunder, messing with my brothers
I’ma put you under, run yo pockets how I’m talking

We just get it poppin’
Run your options, I’ma hit you with the steady optic
I don’t like the small talk
Get the business let the money talk

If it’s a standoff, I’m killing every witness
Survival of the fittest I’ma let it sound off
Let the dead talk, or let my gun walk
This shit like clockwork, she loving how my cock work

Rocking out like it’s a concert
Everyday I’m sponsored by Mary Jane she makes my lungs hurt
Put a body on your t-shirt to see my artwork
Don’t be looking for a handout, ’cause that’s not how this works