King David

I ain’t ashamed of shit.

I earned my stripes.

Southside Los fuckin’ Angeles —

Where boys die and men survive.

I ain’t run from it — I ran it.

Name’s King David — remember that.

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I bled blue since a youngin’, put in real street work,

Sold rocks, robbed ops, made the whole block hurt.

I ain’t never tuck tail, I ain’t never switched sides,

I was raised where the real ones ride or die.

Ran fades in the pen, ran game in the streets,

Got rich off powder, had hoes in fleets.

Every bitch I pimped fed the hustle I built,

I ain’t lose no sleep when that blood got spilled.

Put that .40 in they face, told ’em run that shit,

If I said it, I meant it — no cap, no skits.

I ain’t glorify the pain, but I ain’t downplay the crown,

Motherfucker, I earned that name in the town.

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I don’t regret nothin’ — I’m proud of the grind,

Made it out the set with my name still signed.

King David — I stood through fire and fights,

I paid in blood, in war, in nights.

You can judge all you want, but I stayed real,

Ten toes down, made my own damn meal.

From the bitches I broke to the guns I gripped,

I ain’t sorry for shit — I was made for this.

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I done shot at close range, left fools laid out,

Went toe-to-toe with killers, never ran my mouth.

Taught lil’ homies how to cook and serve,

How to slide on a fool, how to swerve that curve.

I was the one they called when shit got hot,

I ain’t duck no fade, I done aired out spots.

Had the block in check, had the law on watch,

But they couldn’t catch a ghost when the ghost don’t stop.

Yeah, I moved to the desert but the fire stayed lit,

Still a Southside soldier — I just leveled my shit.

Got my son in the game, but I tell him, “Chill —

I done walked through hell, now I’m climbin’ the hill.”

⸻

I don’t regret nothin’ — I’m proud of the grind,

Made it out the set with my name still signed.

King David — I stood through fire and fights,

I paid in blood, in war, in nights.

You can judge all you want, but I stayed real,

Ten toes down, made my own damn meal.

From the bitches I broke to the guns I gripped,

I ain’t sorry for shit — I was made for this.

⸻

I ain’t no preacher.

I ain’t no victim.

I’m a product of where I’m from —

And a survivor of it.

King David — the one they couldn’t bury.

You soft motherfuckers could never.

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So when my son look up, I tell him straight:

“Respect your pops — I fed my plate.

Ain’t no shame in the game if you own your lane,

Just don’t let it trap you in that same ol’ chain.”

I ain’t ask for peace — I took my throne,

Turned a cold-ass street into my home.

And I’m still standin’ — hard, built to last,

King David — I lived that past.