This is a song about "Kings cross"

Got that cross on my forehead,

My god come before this bread

Who wish to break this dynasty of kings

She'll do anything for me, nothing but hits

Got 35 up on that last kings tee

I'm on i-80 though with my baby

Rap satanist thinking that they are kings,

Nowadays usually it's his pockets

We talkin' b blockers keep us with deep pockets

Kings covered in potassium it clings

Ain't no other kings in this rap thing

Since we not even talking

Cross left cross right, now dribble down the paint

But, shorty i'm far from a saint

And this will be the song that we sing

Kings are clashing and storm storms are slashing