Wire taps, y'all some grown liars I'm Julius with Cleo betting on my empire I'm busy in the jet, like a Spitfire Grandiose in the house, looking like Granada I'm pops to your daughter's daughter Want my head like Pompeii, the Roman rider I write you off like a speed infraction I'm through with all the talking Your misery got bad company Fuck all y'all been It's LK, symbolic All the shit I embody You might get shot, but Johnny's driving nice cars Tryna park it, don't you holla if it ain't my Gualla Growing up where I'm from, iPhone to get you towed on Located in bankroll, my niggas weight the dome The shit I've waited for ever since Brenda Song Told you that I'd make-make it home, motherfuckers This ain't no ball game, mad ruckus More like the Rucker, more like Christchurch, mother Teresa cash, credit and visas Not the car, but the passport feature Need the passport if you're riding with the asshole Tell her no bags, we shopping on tour, freak We make a nice cold week and if you ass caught creeping I'm balanced on the poppers, if I stop won't tell who dropping I'm topic of discussion when it's who young with the money I'm here, motherfuckers I hear my name from the bleachers But I'm too busy reaching Looking up to deceased kings Long live the last king, Martin had a dream And it's me Busy in the jet like a spitfire Julius built my empire Y'all some grown liars Busy in the jet like a spitfire Julius built my empire Y'all some grown liars Y'all some grown liars