Grown Simba

[Verse 1: Kelvin Jones]



Man Im feeling like a puppet they got satan pulling strings

Man the way that I be fly they be hating on the wings

I ain't no Lebron James I ain't waiting for the ring

Im more like a young Simba I can't wait to be the king

Better yet a young Cole, I wanna hear drum rolls when I pass

Young Messi, got 101 goals get em fast, finish last never that

Boy its hot in here, I don't care, Where my Sweaters at never lack

You put on a clever act, William Shakespeare

Feeling at the top, until I die, Ima stay here

Welcome to the world where the phony people hate

And you know I got that cheese macaroni on my plate

And they gather 'round the dinner table only to debate

What's his fate? Is he great? Is he balling? Is he paid?

Well uh... success, yes, yes, and yes

Double d's pushed against me I guessed thats depressed

And yes, I do have the S on my chest

But its net to the G, Sweater Gang who we be

I wanna have the women go insane to meet me

We wear chains but we claim to be free

And bang stupidly we be fighting over colors

Mothers losing their sons and sister losing the brothers

Cause the blocks stay cocked in these streets

Thats why I prefer the sheets you could say I'm undercover, huh