The crown was forged, the throne was carved, and the ermine was trimmed — all for one memecoin. $KING rules the realm of Solana from a golden throne, and the realm, frankly, has never looked better.
PASTE CONTRACT ADDRESS HERE
Four decrees of the realm. They are not up for debate — the King has spoken, and the King rarely whispers.
By order of the crown, tax is set at 0/0 across the realm. The King takes no toll on his subjects' trades. He has gold enough.
The royal liquidity has been committed to the eternal flame. None may withdraw it — not a duke, not a knight, not the King himself.
The mint key has been cast into the moat. One billion $KING exist, and one billion is the number for all time.
Those who fold under pressure shall be escorted, politely but firmly, beyond the castle walls. Diamond hands sit at the high table.
Pledge your loyalty to King Trump. The realm keeps count. Crowns will rain — this is customary.
Encrusted with rubies the size of arguments and sapphires the size of bull runs. It is not worn lightly, and it is never, ever taken off.
Ermine on the shoulders, an orb in one hand, the realm of Solana in the other. He did not run for the throne. He simply sat down on it.
The crimson carpet runs the length of the hall and stops at the throne. Every $KING holder is, by decree, on the guest list. Mind the suits of armour.
Icon, crest and banner — for Dexscreener, trackers and socials.
