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Money from the trap house
, beef pull the Macks out
Stuntinâ pull the 'llacs out
In case you cats doubt
Iâm donâ everythang I rap about
And thatâs on everythang
Standinâ on the club couch
On the corner thugged out, bitches pull they tongues out
When we pull them oneâs out
Iâm doinâ everythang I rap about
And thatâs on everythang
Every time I rap, I leak a joint on the Internet
First in the fans say that Crooked I kill a jet
Firinâ squad, blindfolded cigarette
Smoke an instrumental, then Iâma chew a Nicorette
Hard bars in effect, rappers livinâ in my shadow
Watch âem charge rent for my silhouette
Iâm the illest, I ainât met no one iller yet
Workaholic, I ainât even met my pillow yet
You in your prime when you rhyme where you at
Maybe itâs time for your label to sign a new act
The average personâll blink seventeen thousand times a day
I spit a rhyme every time you do that
Add REM to that, you got Crooked I
You donât want none of that
You know where my gun is at
If bullets rain to your brain, man itâs just a fact
Unless your name boomerang, you ainât cominâ back
[Hook]
This industry is full of way too many lames
They know who they are, ainât gotta say too many names
Itâs like they on the benches now
Shootinâ from downtown in forth down
They playinâ way too many games
But I donât play though; Gâs molded me like some Play Dough
And still Iâm feelinâ as philosophical as Plato
I ainât hatinâ on you other artistâs music
Tried to dumb down, guess Iâm too smart to do it
Maybe I go somewhere and think of a dance
Thatâll be the same day I rock a crease in my pants
Rather tell a bank teller better meet my demands
Put the cash in my palms or have a beast on your hands
Iâm the type of dude to put you in an ambulance
If itâs beef, Iâm shootinâ at cuties, threeâs cameraman
Go ahead, stick your chest out fam-a-lam
This ainât a mammogram, hold up
[Hook]
When Iâm spittinâ I hope you findinâ the art
When Iâm rhyminâ Iâm mininâ for diamonds, I shine in the dark
Iâm a neurologist slash cardiologist
Iâma touch your mind and your heart
I feel like Iâm designinâ the Arc
Bullshit is floodinâ this rap world
We lost like that Black Girl in Nasâ song
You claim to be live, well you got some nerve
You ainât a title beat rider
This east sideâll reach higher
Fresh out the deep fryer, so you know each line is too hot to serve
You rock with herbs, retire
Leave while you got your cry peace by
Who got the urge to be nicer when Iâm speakinâ
Iâm tryna remind you of 2Pac with words
This is Machiavelliâs retaliation
Bring the blues to your house, quicker than Live Nation
[Hook]
- Álbum:
- Apex Predator
- Game Time (Single)
- Million Dollar $tory (EP)
- More Pigface Weapon Waist
- In None We Trust - The Prelude (EP)
- Non-Album Releases
- St. Valentines Day Bossacre
- KXNG CROOKED - Sex, Money & Hip-Hop
- Compilation
- Game Time
- Dynasty Boss, Volume 3: The Block Obama Edition
- Psalm 82:6
- Planet C.O.B., Volume 1
- In None We Trust EP
- In None We Trust - The Prelude
- Planet C.O.B Vol. 1
- Everythang
- Million Dollar $Tory - The EP
- Million Dollar $tory
- Planet COB, Vol. 1