King Eva - Counted Out III Lyrics

We the mob
We can't relate to these rats
They tried to sabotage the family
I'm taking it back
I'm with some shooters who been making it snap
If they in opps hood, they taking a strap
We raking in cash
Cause all those times we came in placing in last
Made us cook like Walter White, we breaking it bad
Freaky hoes sucking f*cking for cash
But I ain't on my Diddy shit, I'm just making a band
And I ain't showing no signs of stoppin'
Better yet, no signs of floppin'
Armani my garments
All this money, it done made me heartless
Follow the cash cause the cash runs all this
I know the world feels lawless
All this weight pressing down on my shoulders
If I brake
Only cause I lose focus
I cant lose focus
I can't explain it but I just been chosen
Heart frozen
You can see the corrosion
Protect yo motion
Counted Out three could've been Pressure two
I can't pretend I don't feel pressure too
This what I'm pressed to do
Exemplary performance
Highest endurance
I'm the highest in the room
I'm turbulent
Storming
Don't talk about price if you keep talking it down
If you want the best you gotta pay full amount
Wire to account
Thick shorty and I'm sliming her out
Pull on yo block and we sliding it down
No matter who on mound
Off that purp scary, cup Burberry
Insert a perc and she gon squirt cherry
Quite the contrary
Feel the climax she pulling me close
In case I die next, let's have a toast
Papi Montana, the GOAT
I been in the game
Just waiting on the ball
But you know who to call
They counted me out
Said chances were small
But it's my turn to ball
I been in the game
Just waiting on the ball
But you know who to call
They counted me out
Said chances were small
But it's my turn to ball
And I can't even lie, I got money on my mind
Spent some time tryna get away from homicide and crime
This intervention divine
I'm defined by my name
Young king
Independently intertwined with pain
Look
You painting pictures but these canvases don't sell
That's the type of plot point that leaves you sitting in a cell
So when I pop joints, it's gon get ya neck cracking
Cause the weight that's on my shoulders got scaled out, then packaged
And even in a slump I'm still batting above average
Ya favorite rapper he couldn't get a tryout for the tracklist
Windmill in the end zones or in field
Impossible to be this skilled and get skipped still
Armani staccato to the Gucci that's on the belt though
If you never lost Game one, you don't know how I felt bro
A lot of foos failed to replicate the rhyme scheme
So don't feel bad bout the blood from the crime scene
King
I been in the game
Just waiting on the ball
But you know who to call
They counted me out
Said chances were small
But it's my turn to ball
I been in the game
Just waiting on the ball
But you know who to call
They counted me out
Said chances were small
But it's my turn to ball
They counted me out
They counted me out
They counted me out
They counted me out
They counted me out
They counted me out
They counted me out
They counted me out