Crooked I others songs:

Baby (Remix) lyrics - Crooked I(feat. Ashanti)

[Ashanti]
I remember feelin like this...

[Chorus: Ashanti]
Baby, baby, baby, baby, baby (Baby)
Baby, baby, baby, baby, baby
Love it when I heard your name, got me sayin...
Baby, baby, baby, baby, baby (Baby, I love you)
Baby, baby, baby, baby, baby
Love it when I heard your name, got me sayin...

[Ashanti]
I got the jomes forming in my bones (From a man)
Who indeed took over my soul (Understand)
I couldn't breathe if he ever said (He would leave)
Get on my knees, til there bloody red (Baby please)
See I don't know if you get it yet (Just don't know)
He's like the lighter to my cigarette (Wacth me smoke)
I never knew another human life (Didn't know)
Who got the power to take over mine, so baby, baby

[Crooked I]
Yo, I love my R & B, P's man
She be in the shower singin "Shockin Car Sweet Thang"
But I'm on the block, gutter thuggin where the G's hang
Cuz all of my father figures came from a street gang
It's Crooked I, ridin wit me more
She top notch, dog a bently is sore
She keep her body covered in Christian Deor (Wow)
Plus she's ready to ride wit me in war
Who can ask for more? Me and my...

[Chorus: Ashanti]
Baby, baby, baby, baby, baby (Baby)
Baby, baby, baby, baby, baby
Love it when I heard your name, got me sayin...
Baby, baby, baby, baby, baby (Baby, I love you)
Baby, baby, baby, baby, baby
Love it when I heard your name, got me sayin...

[Ashanti]
See I can never feel alone with you (In my life)
I'll give up everything I own for you (Won't think twice)
Almost a shame how I'm mesmerised (Such a shame)
I lose my thought lookin in your eyes (I know, I)
Because your kisses make my lips quiver (And that's real)
And when you touch me my whole body shivers (I can feel)
Now I can see how another life (Another life)
Could the power to take over mine (Cuz your my)

[Chorus: Ashanti]
Baby, baby, baby, baby, baby (Baby)
Baby, baby, baby, baby, baby
Love it when I heard your name, got me sayin...
Baby, baby, baby, baby, baby (Baby, I love you)
Baby, baby, baby, baby, baby
Love it when I heard your name, got me sayin...

[Ashanti (Crooked I)]
Baby, baby, baby, baby, baby
(You wit the I, we gon ride til we die ya know)
Baby, baby, baby, baby, baby
(Ya wit the two by my side we always gon survive fo'-sho')
Baby, baby, baby, baby, baby
(Yo, yo lets get this money huh, let's get this paper right)
Baby, baby, baby, baby, baby
(Whenever it's the ROW and Murder Inc it's a done deal when we link)

[Crooked I (Ashanti)]
And tell me, who could ever picture
That me and you would be together forever
I'm a gangsta, they said I'd never get ya (Baby)
I'm runnin the turf, you want me comin to church
How can I come, when I know I keep guns under my shirt
I love the street life, But that there love is a curse
And I when I think about livin without you
(Baby, I love you) Nothin is worse
I got my lil' mommaz back, it's more than just hoppin in the sack
I guess I posses a track, you my...

[Chorus: Ashanti]
Baby, baby, baby, baby, baby (Baby)
Baby, baby, baby, baby, baby
Love it when I heard your name, got me sayin...
Baby, baby, baby, baby, baby (Baby, I love you)
Baby, baby, baby, baby, baby
Love it when I heard your name, got me sayin...

[Ashanti (Crooked I)]
Baby, baby, baby, baby, baby
(You wit the I, we gon ride til we die ya know)
Baby, baby, baby, baby, baby
(Ya wit the two by my side we always gon survive fo'-sho')
Baby, baby, baby, baby, baby
(Yo, yo lets get this money huh, let's get this paper right)
Baby, baby, baby, baby, baby
(Whenever it's the ROW and Murder Inc it's a done deal when we link)

[Chorus: Ashanti]
Baby, baby, baby, baby, baby (Baby)
Baby, baby, baby, baby, baby
Love it when I heard your name, got me sayin...
Baby, baby, baby, baby, baby (Baby, I love you)
Baby, baby, baby, baby, baby
Love it when I heard your name, got me sayin...

(Baby...)

Banger On My Lap lyrics - Crooked I

Banger on my lap, my seats lean back
I'm ready when beef crack, I hope you know the business
White tee attached, fresh Dodger hats
Long Beach is where we at

Crooked keep infinite cannons to blam at y'all,
Put hammers in ya mouth like Ambasol, a damn Neanderthal.
Ratchets draw, I'm last to fall, standin tall.
Your blood on the canvas that's all the camera saw.
Yeah, fake pussies despise me,
Cause I pull up dumpin shots while the Bathing Ape hoody disguise me.
And for the shit I'm writing you should straight pull it, surprise me;
I'm a beast I ain't letting straight bullets survive me.
This Wes Craven's a thug, I'm Tech wavin
Makin you a rest haven for slugs, your chest cave in
You meet your death facin the mud, I'm neck breakin
Die in ya vest tastin ya blood, I'm breathtaking.
My trigger finger gon ring them things towards you,
Doctors'll go'n find a machine to breathe for you
Them hammers'll King Thor you, the beam floor you
It tore through your spleen, poor you, choirs'll sing for you.
I'm missin noodles, you niggas poodles.
Don't try to resist cause this is feudal, but I give you kudos.
Props my nigga, then I'm a give you two holes.
When cops come askin what happened? I'm a tell em who knows?
Never talkin I'd rather walk in a cell,
Direct a call for the bail cause tellin's awful as hell
And snitchin's a nail in ya coffin as well
Get knocked off, from shots called, by young bosses in jail.
This is the life we, lead nightly,
Creep lightly through the streets with G's like me.
It's like the certain made Adam and Eve bite me,
I put the knowledge on good and evil on trees like leaves.
Paper, I flip cream with my notebook
Hot sixteens and a dope hook
Sometimes I freestyle, now I call that flow the no look
You don't use pens either, good but, you're no Crook.
I dust you flow off, just to show off
Busters know, they can't turn this hustler's blow off.
Face it you basic, you wack-ass niggas is getting wasted.
I reach in my waist and the 38 rip.
Bullets straight zip, through the air like a spaceship,
Hit you under the chin, give you a face lift, you ain't shit.
I'm on some bang bang Circle Gang shit.
Puttin blood on your shoes like Game's Hurricane kicks.
Get murdered man, with perfect aim, get your vertebrae's clipped.
Further pain administered from my burner, same clip.
Slip, we won't leave a witness,
When you in my city, I hope you know the business.
When you in my city, hope you know the business.

Banger on my lap, my seats lean back
I'm ready when beef crack, I hope you know the business
White tee attached, fresh Dodger hats
Long Beach is where we at, yeah I hope you know the business

I got my banger in my lap, my seats lean back
I'm ready when beef crack, nigga I hope you know the business
White tee attached, yeah fresh Dodger hats
Long Beach is where we at, so I hope ya know the business.

Big Dreams lyrics - Crooked I

[Intro:]
51!
Hip Hop Weekly, Crooked I, Circle of Bosses
I gotta make sure I get all my announcements together for this one
Let's go!

[Beat comes on]

Yeah...
Make sure you go out and cop that Jim Gittum project called The Vision
That's my godbrother, you know what I mean?
Spiritual Hip Hop, you feel me?
Make sure (What?)
You look out for that Horseshoe G.A.N.G. mixtape coming soon
Gangsta MC, yeah!
This mixtape will allow you to see
The dynamics of the Horseshoe G.A.N.G., man
Y'all don't even know what they working with yet
Y'all don't even know
Shouts out to every, everybody fucking with me
On this series

[Verse:]
Yo why I gotta be modest on the beats
When I'm the hottest on the beats
To be honest you should pay homage I'm a beast
Crooked is a prophet in the sheets
Nostradamus in his sleep
And I conjure the sleek comments that you seek
Dominic's ominous with the speech
Like a communist when he speaks
Put Romulus in his seat
The drama is in his teeth
Meaning he eats the beef
When the llamas is in his reach
I promise I'm in the streets
I'm prominent in the beats
Long Beach, East Side representers
Fly as angel wings, so it's like heaven sent us
Some avengers, you square pretenders bare witness
To the hitlist 'cause heavy weapons got 187 on their agendas
This is how us criminals ride
I talk reckless like I'm John McCain's spiritual guide
I talk greasy like Barak Obama's preacher
But on the lyrical side
So greasy it's like my lyrics are fried
Who's above the young sire, none's higher, dumb squire
I run wires, slugs fire, strike you out like an empire
Run till your lungs tire
I was dumping them guns prior
To you die and squeeze iron when the need becomes dire
Why are - you biting homey do not clone
I'm the only living heir to 2Pac's throne
Who the fuck else could walk around with 2 glocks on
Creative enough to write Aerosmith a new rock song (Haha!)
Who else got them skills most notable in his flow
Wrote 51 Hip Hop quotables in a row
Yo
I'm a raging bull
Rappers these days couldn't keep up with Ra when he dropped Paid In Full
Or when Nas dropped Illmatic
And Jay Reasonable Doubt
You wouldn't even have a reason to be out
Go listen to Kool G Rap, Ice Cube and them KRS Songs
If you would've dropped back then, you would've been slept on
Uh-uh, 'scuse me
You would've been stepped on
Snapping your neckbone
Crooked rock with the best known
On top of all that, I'm every gun clappers favorite
In this dirty game my name's so clean I never have to bathe it
Never drop my handcock on any affidavit
Can't no pussy walk and say I had to captain save it
Nah, none of you niggas could come off harder
Hydrogen flow, my motormouth run off water
I'm the jumpoff starter
I cut off thugs, let my gun off smarter
'Cause you can't lift prints off gloves... Hear me?
Street lessons I could teach you wussies
I named my pistol Rosie O'Donell 'cause it'll eat you pussies, yeah

[Outro:]
Y'all know what we doing man
It's number 51!
51 Weeks
Of me killing beats, 'namean?
Hip Hop Weekly
C.O.B.
East Side, LBC
Shout out to my dude Big C-Style
We coming
Long beach is back
'Cause I brought it back
Haha, yeah dude
Look out for my new mixtape coming soon
The Block Obama
Yeah, you heard me
The Block Obama
We goin' on a campaign
I'm about to be the commander in chief of the West Coast, holla
And I'm campaigning against Hillary Pimpin'
Hahahahahaha
Aaah, C.O.B. till it's over, nigga
Hip Hop Weekly, I love y'all, peace

Bitch Niggas lyrics - Crooked I

You know what's mind burgling
Niggas be acting like bitches, you know
Man why you sign to Death Row?
Get out my business bitch
Man why you leave Death Row?
Nigga, it's always business, it's never personal homie
Get it right

I see you mothafuckas, I see you over there
And I know you wanna fuck with me
I got my eyes on you suckas
But I don't really care
Cause I keep a burner tuck with me

Yeah, niggas is under aware
I'm their worst fucking nightmare
Send shots to the night air cause I don't fight fair
Watch you die right there, without a slight care
Like: “Yeah nigga, youse a snake”
Type of nigga that get mad over the moves you make
Look at the rules you break
You choose to hate, shake your friend when he loose his cake
You dudes is fake, bitch niggas
When the guns cock, choose your fate
Click triggers, when I bust glocks, loose your face
Ditch diggers, with one shot, its news at eight
We six figure, then a thug got loot to chase
A rich nigga, we ballin' while you fuckers in the drought
Cause if it ain't about the money, tz, what the fuck is it about
Catch me in the beach house, its straight thuggin' in the south
With my nigga Humpty Hump, punchin' you suckas in the mouth
Droppin' a matter frightenin' rate
Striking at lightning's pace, one slice, your lungs pipes deflate
Mad at me cause your ice is fake
I got B.O.S.S. written across my license plate
Life is great, bitch nigga

I see you mothafuckas, I see you over there
And I know you wanna fuck with me
I got my eyes on you suckas
But I don't really care
Cause I keep a burner tuck with me

Black & Yellow (HHW 13 Reloaded) lyrics - Crooked I

The Westcoast ain't the same without me
Cause I'm packing metal, packing metal, packing metal, acting ghetto
This how we do it in the LBC
Packing metal, packing metal, packing metal, acting ghetto
Zoop zoop this is COB
Packing metal, packing metal, packing metal, acting ghetto
Turn it up let it vibrate the streets
Packing metal, packing metal, packing metal, acting ghetto

I'm from the hood where Grandparents are 35
I don't bang, I hustle but still I'm certified
Last nigga who shot I heard he died
Cause my address is 187 East Murder Drive
All the pain in the my past I gotta verbalize
It can't stay on my head, I gotta circumcise
My tears drop on the song, they don't prefer the eyes
A chick left me for that but that was her demise
Money cars and jewelry that shit had her astounded
She searched for the essence of me and bounced when she found it
I'm a complex figure, I'm a never ignorant, getting goals accomplished
Grew up in a lot of projects, Lochness hotness nigga
On a conquest to digest liquor
In a contest to progress quicker
Than any in 2011, by making my thought process sicker
Bigger, stronger, faster
Homie tell me is it a fact
Through negative you can make yourself a prisoner
If so I call them thoughts an unwelcome visitor
Music is therapeutic, I'm a get help from listeners
I told you I'm so grow up I don't need therapy right
America's nightmare carries a mic
And I stay far away from snake fake character types
I vow to never fuck with you like I married a dyke
Keep it real when I make a joint
Streets tried to break me, couldn't find my breaking point
The other night I had a dream
I seen God he was a beam of light
His physical form was human being like
He gave me a couple of warnings in order for me to keep my life
Can't tell you what but I cna say that he was right
I dream 16′s homie I don't need to write
Pick up a pen in oyur session, I'm just trying to be polite
Cover my genius up cause rappers are envious
When I say I finished my verse they like "is he serious"
5 minute lyricist with an emphasis on a structure
Plus the details I describe in the sentances
Mind you my timing better be live from the Genesis
I bet metaphors and one liners are limitless
First I'm on the West on some [?]
Then the spit will be in Italy in a Gondola on some Venice shit
Bars beyond bars has it's benefits
I'm Favre, busted chin, fractured ankle,
I don't know when to quit (never)
And old rappers when see me, don't say hi
They call me 'cause I'm fucking with Shady
I say okay bye

[Chorus: x2]
The Westcoast ain't the same without me
Cause I'm packing metal, packing metal, packing metal, acting ghetto
This how we do it in the LBC
Packing metal, packing metal, packing metal, acting ghetto
Zoop zoop this is COB
Packing metal, packing metal, packing metal, acting ghetto
Turn it up let it vibrate the streets
Packing metal, packing metal, packing metal, acting ghetto

Black Pussy lyrics - Crooked I (feat. Dresta, MC Eiht)

[Dresta: talking]
Ay wassup?!
Haha
Y'all jump on in
It's my homeboy Crooked I
I'm Dresta Tha Gangsta kna mean?
We supposed to pick up my homeboy Eiht
I'm trying to hit him up right now to see what's happenin'

[Verse 1: Dresta]
I know you love it, the most rugged MC's, out the gate
It's Dresta with them drunkest Crooked I and the Eiht
Oh Oh, 2 Compton niggaz known for freakin 'em right
Man, Crooked late at night got 3 and they tight
In the Bourbon, swervin' through Irvine trying catch Eiht
So we can hook him with the 3rd fine lady
Named Mercedes, got a body like a Maserati
Thinkin to myself, "I must be crazy! trying give away this hottie!"
Then I glance at the passenger seat
Can't deny that this girl by my side was just too damn fly
Too jeopardized, I just glanced at her eyes
And them caramel thighs make my main vain rise
Can't wait to re arrive at the 'tele
So I can lick them honey off that ring on her belly
For so' I glance in the mirror once mo'
Look, I gotta catch Eiht cause I know he gon' love this hoe

[Chorus:]
Real G's get lonely
We can have fun but bring some for the homie
(Black Pussy)
I only fuck with real niggaz only
We can have fun but bring some for the homie
(Sweet Black Pussy)
You know real G's get lonely
We can have fun but bring some for the homie
(Black Pussy)
and I know you fuck with real bitches only
we can have fun but bring some for the homie
(Sweet Black Pussy)

[Verse 2: MC Eiht]
I gives a damn how these hoes tryna floss these days
Cause they still kiss the nuts, fucks tramps and sluts
I still kill it, the way you want me, ride the pony
'Secrets' like Toni, members only
Dresta, I heard they turn in tricks for bucks
2 tricks get the dicks hard, ready to suck
Don't be havin me in suspense, but in the meanwhile
I be dippin up in the LB with C-Style
Back to the CPT, home bud and Tanquerina
Beatin' up the pussy like Ike beat up Tina
You know me, the gangsta love never wine and dine
Keep it tight, anytime I fuck it like Brian Mcknight
Lately the hype, I know it ain't right
3 a.m. I ring your phone every night
Let's Play House, (Let's Play...) no cat and mouse
Don't floant it, Eiht just give it How You Want It
But in the end don't press your luck
Because ain't no bitch like the bitch that Fucked!

[Chorus:]
Real G's get lonely
We can have fun but bring some for the homie
(Black Pussy)
I only fuck with real niggaz only
We can have fun but bring some for the homie
(Sweet Black Pussy)
and I know you fuck with real bitches only
we can have fun but bring some for the homie
(Black Pussy)

[Verse 3: Crooked I]
Fuck the bullshit, the pimps at the pool pit
I know what you want chips but dick is all you get
I knock them skins out like always trained by custom auto
Never givin' a bitch shit, that's a hustlers motto
Except sumptin' to swallow
Now your boyfriend wanna follow
Hit a nigga with a hollow tip and fuck the bitch tomorrow
I can never be your simp, trick!
I'm slappin bitches with 9 inches, the limp dick
Plus a pimps dick
Dig short, small, diggin 'em large and tall
Y'all the bigger they are the harder they fall
I fuck 'em all!!
The hoe philosopher, broke, dope and popular
Still strokin' tho goin deeper than Oceanographers
I got your 'bra, gettin ready for the pony ride
DoggyStyle, so I can hit the backside!
Grab the head pump that ass in the air
What did you know?
The hoe hollered "how ya do dat there?!"

[Chorus:]
Real G's get lonely
We can have fun but bring some for the homies
(Black Pussy)
I only fuck with real niggaz only
We can have fun but bring some for the homie
(Sweet Black Pussy)
Real G's get lonely
We can have fun but bring some for the homie
(Black Pussy)
I know you fuck with real bitches only
we can have fun but bring some for the homie
(Sweet Black Pussy)
You know the real G's get lonely
we can have fun but bring some for the homie
(Black Pussy)
I only fuck with real niggaz only
we can have fun but bring some for the homie
(Sweet Black Pussy)
the real G's get lonely
we can have fun but bring some for the homie
(Black Pussy)
I know you fuck the real bitches only
we can have fun but bring some for the homie (for the homie)
(Sweet Black Pussy)
Pussy
Black Pussy... Black Pussy
Sweet Black Pussy... Pussy
Black Pussy
That Sweet Black Pussy...
Black Pussy..
That Sweet Black Pussy...
Black Pussy... [repeat to fade]

California (Remix) lyrics - Crooked I (feat. 2Pac, Butch Cassidy, E-40, Jayo Felony, Kurupt, Ma)

[Intro:]
Welcome to California
Remix [echo]

[Verse 1: Mack 10]
Uh Westcoast
Mack 10, Sly Boogy and the rest of the homies, look...

See I was raised at the gutter
And no matter what happened I got that raw cane & water
I ain't dependin' on rappin'
And I ain't wit the disrespect, watch ya mouth when ya yappin
I grab the homies and some bullies, hit ya block and start clappin
And I got so much aqua, my traps got floods on it
Gettin' that rubber band money and who cares if Bloods is on it
Mack 10, one of the few West Coasters to shine
And most of them got the mainstream, the hood is mine

[Verse 2: Jayo Felony]
Man, I'm quick to tell a killer that I'm iller than he is
See, and I'm a G since it's me and my peeps, please
Look I'm the quickest no stitches, hit switches
And I love these witches that be gobblin' snobbishness
We takin' wrist watches, we be plottin' on change main
Why did I hit you up? Homie this is the gang thang
Can't hang with us gorillas, main, you just an orangutan
Sly and Bullet Loco gone bring these killers PAIN!

[Verse 3: Sly Boogy]
Right, aight, hold up, trip (ha ha!)
Me and my niggaz came to blow up shit (yeah)
And show these niggaz how to flow that spit (yeah)
And quit actin' like some hoe-ass tricks (Sly Boogy)
Fool, you know who the hell it is (yeah)
I'm clickin' up wit all my cousins and relatives
And you could roll wit us and rep yo block
And we could show these motherfuckers how the West Coast rock
So come on

[Hook: Butch Cassidy]
Everybody all around the world (yeah)
All the little baby boys and girls (alright)
Can't sleep cause they wanna know what's goin' on in California
All the seeds all across the globe
People comin' from coast to coast
For the show cause they wanna know what's goin' on in California

[Verse 4: E-40]
Talk to me, I talk back, ain't no need to explain
Y'all know my name
Y'all know who this is rappin' over this steel trap
Y'all know it's the man wit the slang
Use no pedal when pushin' that cane
Everything that I ever sold in the street it was top grade
Magazines, three mics, sprinkle truth in the game, spit the venom
Every rapper got a little E-40 up in em
Every rapper off the heezy fo sheezy
I thought you plot 'em wit Jigga down
For shit got down

[Verse 5: Kurupt]
Switches, bitches, chrome deep dishes
Impalas, pop collars and pop collar bones
It's California, Gangstaville, in ya mouth, all up on ya
Cologne, you California
I'm Chuck All Stars, chronic sack, skull hat, Nissan truck
Not to give a fuck, Kurupt
86 gang bang, World War 3
Thunder Dome, Crenshaw, Chemical Ali
California nigga!

[HOOK]

[Verse 6: Crooked I]
The women hop in the whip
They love the way the speakers be subbin' in eight places
I represent Cali like Governor Gray Davis
On roller coaster rims, I own my own company pal
I'm slangin' spinners, how you lovin' me now
In L.A. you gotta be do or die in junior high
He's Sly Boogy, I'm Crooked I and we ride - you know?
And I'm Death Row, heartless and lethal
You seen Menace to Society, I should start in the sequel
Yeeah

[Verse 7: Roscoe]
Blaze up the sticky dro, raise up the '64
Sittin' low at the liquor store
He's better than generous, inconsiderate
On a shwe wit a cigarette
You know that nigga Young Roscoe rollin' in the Cadillac
rag on these (on these)
I got my Khakillac saggin' wit the crease
And everybody wanna know like, "what's up wit Sco?"
It's Y.A. Killafornia!

[Verse 8: 2Pac]
Know for doin' scandalous deeds, no handlin' me
And nah it ain't the drugs, it's the straight thug nigga in me
I swoop down and cause havoc
My rapid delivery is automatic, lettin' niggaz have it
I been labelled as a thug nigga
Since they don't sell my shit to white folks, ship it to the drug dealers
And catch a, catch a nigga worldwide
A fucking Mob Figga, West Coast who ride

[HOOK]

[Outro:]
We hope you have enjoyed your stay [echo]
Think about this stuff [echo]

Death Rizzo lyrics - Crooked I

[Verse 1]
Hold up...
I'm just coming to blow ya mind with the flow
Know what?
Niggas is hatin' cuz I signed with tha Row
So what?
Y'all been tryin' to stop mine on the low
I climb in the fo'
Let the glock pop... nine in a row
If I catch you after eleven
I'ma have to point an acurate weapon
At your acurate legend
And clap you with seven
I'm crazier than servin' crack to a reverend
Plus, I ruin your career
like if the news camera catch you with Tevin
Ugh! Just gimme your rightful invision
I stiffle your mission
Swing and hit niggas hard as motorcycle collisions
Watch your ass, like you Michael in prison
There's so many weak wick-whack
Recycle-rap niggas
I'm liable to diss 'em
Even though, they scared of testin' me now
Quit playin' games, you "Got Beef?"
"Say My Name," like you Destiny's Child
First off all, let's get a few things straight:
This Death Row and I'm the new teammate
Nigga, your crew seen fate
We drop it fast
Watchin' bodies get carried like shoppin' bags
I ain't seen y'all up in the 'hood since niggas was rockin' Shaq's
Standin' by this hot nigga, your s'pose to burn
Lets make a toast to Death Row's return
Ya heard?

[Chorus]
Act like you knizzo, nigga this Death Rizzo
Niggas throw ya hands up, bitches get on the flizzo
Bangin' on you bustas in the two-triple-izzo
Kickin' in the dizzo
And that's so for shizzo
[2 times]

[Verse 2: Crooked I]
Oh... you niggas thought it was over and done?
I told you a soldier would come
Run for both of your guns
While you got that chronic smoke in your lungs
Open your mail, there's a picture inside, of me... chokin' your son
You're broke than a bum
Need to rap over some fatter samples
You Roger Troutman... out-settin' a bad example
In fact, should of had you gaffled, in back of the tabernacle
When you was tryin' to have [?] sex from that tramp,
with the adam's apple
I never understood why they was hatin' on Crook'
It's all just good 'cause the whole 'hood was waitin' on Crook'
I don't battle rap groups
I put switches on Cadilac Coupes
Nigga, that's how the strap shoots
I still... beat the hell outta fat dukes
While you cowards act cute
I teach these rap, soup-eatin' niggas how to stack loot
Gats to tuck
Can't tell you cats enough
The first thug label in the world, that's wussup...
It's Death Rizzo

[Chorus]

[Verse 3]
Yo... we still crackin' and smashin' for some real action
I'm still the best thing to happen to L.A. since Phil Jackson
So all of you marks tuck in your chain
Or on your next video shoot, you'll be be lookin' like you just got jumped
in the game
For the Row... it's nothin' to bang
Fuckin' ya game
Thuggin' the same
Lovin' the game
You catch a slug in your brain!
You'll be alive at 5:25 and dead by 5:30
Call me a trashman beacuse I always ride dirty
We draw crews and clickin' them
It's all cool...
Cause y'all fools is all too soft
We harder than law school curriculums
Stickin' up 64 victims a minute
Twistin' ya minute
Balistic off the most viscious hylosingenics invented
I drop a line
Rock a rhyme
Shock ya mind
Cock a nine
Stop ya time
Rob ya blind...
Rhyme 'til the block is mine
You can't hit Crooked I; you sound dope
cause them niggaz that wrote your shit... [bit Crooked I]
This Death Rizzo

[Chorus]

Dysfunktional Family lyrics - Crooked I (feat. Danny Boy & Eastwood)

[from "Dysfunktional Family" soundtrack]

[Verse 1: rooked I]
Aha, don't it feel good? Come on, I know it feel good, got to
It's a family affair, you feel me, just a family affair
Mama you raised so many sons
And it was so hard tryin' to grow in these slums
Around Gang Bangin' and so many guns
Pen inmates is what the homies become
But look what brighten ghetto poetry brung
A 660 on 421's, Poppa didn't help us, I hope he's a bum
Tried to spit us out like a old piece of gum
Now the flow's opium, and all ya'll know it's The Row when we come
For Sho, do you know anyone? It feels like Crooked I do
If you do, throw your hands in the air
I love my people it's a family affair
Mama braided my hair while I sat in the chair
We grew up in the ghetto but found happiness there
The family used to stand and hold hands in a prayer
Your son's ballin', and I guess he answered Oh, yeah!

[Hook: Danny Boy]
Oh yeah, Dysfunktional Family, yes it is, Dysfunktional Family
It's a family affair, Dysfunktional Family, Dysfunktional Family

[Verse 2: Danny Boy]
My brother's in jail, sister on the corner got her body for sale
She's still my sister man, I'm still her brother and
No matter what they say, I'm a love my sister anyway
And when moma died, grandmamma was by our side
She said hang in there, we can make it
A family that pray together, it's a family that is standin' right by
So I promise myself, until I die, me and my family
Together we gone ride

[Hook: Danny Boy]
Oh yeah, Dysfunktional Family, yes it is, Dysfunktional Family
It's a family affair, Dysfunktional Family, Dysfunktional Family

[Verse 3: Eastwood]
Well it ain't nothin' but a family affair, get your hands in the air
And throw your dubs up like you just don't care
We came from worse to worst, all raised in the church
Still ridin' for my family, buried up under dirt like hers, Still I Rise
Like Pac
Reminiscin on when me and the homies in the hood was slap boxed
Getting' high like it's the thang to do
To all of my fam stretched out in the pen my niggaz this ones' for you
I got the money plus my ebony queen
Bossed up in a black drop top, hot exotic Bentley
Cold streets brought us close together
With the love that me and my family endeavor this can last forever
Even tho we all gotta go
I play to win in this crooked game of cut throat
Mama I don't hate you, I hate you smoke dope
But I love the fact that you my moms and that's on Tha Row

[Hook: Danny Boy]
Oh yeah, Dysfunktional Family, yes it is, Dysfunktional Family
It's a family affair, Dysfunktional Family, Dysfunktional Family

[Outro: Danny Boy]
If it wasn't for my family where would I be, where would I go
Who would I see, if it wasn't for my family
Who would I turn to, who would I lean on
And who would I meet?

Oh yeah, Dysfunktional Family, yes it is, Dysfunktional Family
It's a family affair, Dysfunktional Family, Dysfunktional Family

Call your mom, tell her you love her
Tell your daddy, that you love him
Tell your sister, think the world other
Call your brother, tell him you his keeper, oh yeah

Gangsta Rap lyrics - Crooked I (feat. Scarface, Treach)

[Verse 1: Scarface]
Now flip with a nigga, as we dip through the Dirty
Four-tops, spin out and bent up to thirty
I only ride for homies, 'cause hoes ain't worthy
Never put a bitch before your road doggs, ya heard me?
Plus, we do shit other rappers can't feel
Like, hangin' in the same spots we hung out for the deal
For real, the ghetto ain't a pop song, Cutty
The ghetto bodies get up, get out, and get nutty
And fool, do it 'til the death if you have too
Just get the fuck up off the cuts, 'fore they grab you
And have you doin' penitentary time
Got these rap cats thinkin', if they shit to lift rhymes
If you ain't in the streets, then nigga,
stick to the balance, or get caught up
Tossed up, in this bitch, like a salad
Dedicated to my niggas out here stuck in the trap
I deliver it just like I live it, it ain't rap
Trust me

This is really that gangsta boggie [x2]
That gangsta [x4]

[Chorus]
This is for the ballers
Gangsta rap!
What all the hoes love
Gangsta rap!
What you hop your 6-4 to?
Gangsta rap!
You can do what you want to
Gangsta rap!

Yeah, this is for the ballers
Gangsta rap!
What all the hoes love
Gangsta rap!
What you hop your 6-4 to?
Gangsta rap!
You can do what you want to
Gangsta rap!

[Verse 2: Crooked I]
What did you fall in the spot?
You could say that they callin' a cop
I'm robbin' niggas, whether they ballin' or not
The Steven Segal of the block
Clock you with a pool ball in a sock
Pop you and crawl off in a drop
Dodger hatted-up
I'm fly as a shot when it hovers
A mix between Morpheous and Matrix
In rocket in colors
Tell me, can I...
Rip 'em up? This a jack
Keep them hands high
Stick 'em up
No Metropolis, stoppin' this apocalypse
You couldn't see this novelist
With positive and optimistic results from an optometrist
G shit, that we dreeze, ah!
I'm in that L... B... C... G
And we's, domes like two head soldiers
I'm ghetto enough to go platinum on bootleg versions, uh-huh!
Strapped, jumpin' outta the caravan
Kids turn the channel, now I'm finna smoke the camera man

[Chorus]

[Verse 3: Treach]
I got a question, what's the question?
"What is gangsta rap?"
Is it gangsta niggas that's rappin'?
Or rappin' niggas that act?
I'll tell you what, gangsta rap ain't even force
It ain't bangin' on wax
With dirty backs
Gettin' slapped at The Source
Hmmph, comin' in with your toes pointed out
Runnin' quicker than the bitches and the hoes runnin' out
Don't be pussy and shoot my kids
The set trip, next shit
And I'll make it out, to be East & West shit
I took a [?], then bless it
Manhandle the message
Double my records, Death Row the best shit
Built in L.A.!
You lay, then pay
Still [?] in [?]
You're laid out the same day

This is really that gangsta boggie [x2]
That gangsta [4 times]

[Chorus x2]

Get Off Tha Block lyrics - Crooked I (feat. Phobia)

[from "Dysfunktional Family" soundtrack]

[Intro]
Yeah it's only right the Bad Guy hook up with the Bad Girl...
Phobia... woo!
Aha! It's Tha Row World Order baby
Vegas, drop the heat, c'mon... we back!

[Chorus x3: Crooked I & Phobia]
Death Row's back (here we go again)
Death Row's back (you better get off the Block nigga)

[Verse 1: Crooked I]
And we wearing a smile, nuff areas style, who can bury us now?
Listen, (DEATH ROW's BACK) Ghetto America's child
I'm looking down on you, as if I was Darius Miles
I'm an abusive cat, leading cops on an elusive chase
We make music only fools embrace
We can feud dude, choose the place
I keep a tool in waist, lil dude I remove your face, uhh
Finally, you minor league and we major
Major change the way you make your music ain't a gangsta
Gave the gangsta flava they bang in their CD changer
Came to reign within, the game is in danger
Banging hits that ain't even been rivalled
I, carry a rifle, I cherish survival
I'm, the Bad Guy that's my area title
And Suge's the real Simon, so fuck (American Idol)

[Chorus x3]

[Verse 2]
And we banging the R, that's the Row, Death Row we raising the bar
Tell em (Death Row's back!) getting braids in the car
Look at Crooked damn hard work made him a star
Plus meanwhile my team scheme wild for cream
I hustle like I got nineteen mouths to feed
So leave out the scene, speed-down the cops
Or you'll bleed out your spleen we bring out them thieves
This trick is quick to hit ya with some clips to split ya
I'd rather hit ya with some hits than be a permanent fixture
The clips spit, we spit sick, get the picture?
Cos if you spit sicker then niggaz it'd get you richer
And for my enemies I don't care much
They like some ugly ass bitchs taking pictures getting airbrushed
They not who they appear to be, we beating wimps up
I knock a pimp straight down out of his Pimp Cuff

[Chorus x3]

[Crooked I adlibs]

[Verse 3]
And I demands my love, throw ya hands high join the Bad Guy club
(Death Row's back!) why share my thug
Especially when thugging is my anti-drug
Get merked like it's nothing, that's goon talk
Give me three feet you bustaz better moon-walk
Oh yeah we cop the benz, drop the chevvy on them monster rims
While y'all can rock milk-chocolate timbs
Glock shots chop ya limbs, I sock your chin
I'm something different baby who can cop block the skills?
Not your man, you know I got my heater with me
Leavin' you in need of a kidney, come on and sing it with me...

[Chorus x3]

[Outro over chorus: Phobia]
Get off Tha Block.. haha... get off his dick
Yeah, Crooked I nigga... that's right
The realest, the realest Record label nigga...

Get Yo Mob On lyrics - Crooked I

[from "Foolish" soundtrack]

Uh.
All my niggas worldwide nigga.
Oakland, New Orleans, L.A., The Bay Area, New York.
Fa sho nigga.
Shit rough out here.

Let's get this cheddar dogg, open up the shop and wait
Get the spot locked and still don't nothin move but the money
Get your mob on, load it with this Oakland game
Get the fortune, let them suckas pay the price for the fame
Duffle bags like Pheonix, with cash that's stacked up
Room full of killers that's quick to act up
Packed full of thugs, just my dogg's and me
With a tank full of soldiers ready to die for me
Tramautized by the game so my life's been raw
No regard for a coward so nigga fuck the law
I get's my smash on and get's my blast on
To get my dash on, to get my cash on

[Chorus]
Get yo mob on, do yo thug thang
To all my niggas that's deep in the game
Get yo shine on and stay close to your heat
And get down to the sounds of the M-O-B x2

Now unwrap the bricks and chop the zips up
Move all the product and round the doggs up
Gather all my niggas tell em time to eat
Now it's cross seven o'clock nigga, the night's on me
Machines movin loads, the whole block on flow
Pull out the briefcase, give my doggs a go
As I go route it up, you's the M-O-B
Congratulations, operations movin the brick caprise
Get our smash on, doin our thug thang
Now all my niggas holler deep in the game
Yeah, havin money and stackin some change nigga
Yeah, now we stackin some change nigga

[Chorus x2]

Tell ya nigga, this life is a motherfucker.
You only get one shot at this shit man.
Niggas right nigga, fuck all that hatin.
Bein in niggas motherfuckin business nigga.
Them No Limit niggas, Mr. Bavgate, cleve.
Me, Crooked Eye, alias Alfonso Sausa nigga.
Ya know, get yo mob on.
Do yo thug thang.
Nigga, No Limit.
Beats By The Pound, Craig B

How To Thug lyrics - Crooked I

The cops hate my skin
So they wanna do me in
Shove me in the pen
Have me serving 5 to 10
I grew up in the city where the itch you gotta sin
Now just wanna be like mu suburbia friends
But instead I got a thug, yeah
I got a thug, I got a thug
The streets taught me how to thug

Wait a minute, my mother's flat broke
And my father ain't around
My whole family starving, man I gotta hold us down
I loaded up my chopper, hit that other side of town
Robbed that dealer for a couple of pounds,
My nigger learning how to thug, learning how to thug
I had to learn how to thug, how to thug

I ain't finished, society hates me but that hate is really fear
I'm praying every day that that hate would disappear
They treat me like I ain't shit and the message is very clear
While the devil is whispering in my ear

When it come to thuging I got a master degree
Sitting here in this county jail imagining me
The future me, not the one that's always trapped in the streets
Not the one that see his own family wrapped in them sheets
I'm like the president of thugging, as I practice my speech
Simultaneously I'm thinking I'm the cat to...
Even when I'm sleep, I don't see no actual peace
I'm dreaming, I'm bleedin', after squeezing after police
Nobody gives a fuck about a nigger broken in pain
You see him in front of the liquor store won't even throw him some change
When he die, john doe is his name
Is that my destiny, I'm going insane
Load up my chrome in the rain
Erase a pain for future, that's what I can do with my glock 9
Should I pop it or just call the suicide hot line
Tears rolling down my face is do or die, stop crying
Green light, I'm dead or it's music my stop sign
I'm in a crack hotel, I'm living grimy
Sick of hitting links plus I really don't trust my crimies
Mind state is slimy, I kill you and then yell why me, don't try me
Gotta put this life behind me
See I was brain washed, talked that I wouldn't be shit, believed it
Now these trouble waters got me sea sick
The upper class show love like the tits nepotisms
The lower class we thug is a defense mechanism
To protect... against them
The penitentiary system fit them in and they never miss them
Just look for better victims
And politicians never listen
Do whatever's bitching
They eat in a better kitchen
They on television, promising better conditions
It's a repetition of lies open your eyes
Either let your reckless listen
Listen, we shooting at the wrong targets
Talking out the side of our neck, believing our own charges
I thought that I was cursed by the gods
Dropped in the ghetto, piss pour against impossible odds
Track with these charlatans and philosophical frauds
In a place where being a... is a logical job
Change always starts with the man in the mirror
So I'm talking to myself like hey crooked I, I can hear you
Give me your 38 stub, a mask and some gloves
I can teach the whole world how to thug
But how bout how to love?
Yeah, we need love
We need love in the hood
One time for some love in the hood
Two times for some loves in the hood...
Come back.

I Thought U Knew lyrics - Crooked I (feat. Eastwood, Eddie Griffin)

[from "Dysfunktional Family" soundtrack]

[Intro: Crooked & E.G.]
Hell mothafuckin yeah!
E.G.
I bet you didn't know
I thought you knew
Yeah I bet you didn't know
Yeah, Tell 'em though
What You Thought you knew about me?

[Verse 1: Crooked I]
Niggaz think they know me, see me in traffic
Yeah I'm Mr. Rapper,
But I'm Mr. Jacker, Mr. Youngpistolpacker
One shot should lack ya
Frag to your physical and crack ya
I shoot faster than a Toronto Raptor
And please don't judge me from the ra-di-o
Try to play me like I'm CBS, I'm HBO
I'm crazy yo, Rated R with the crazy flow
I hear the same shit every place he go
„Man Crooked only rap about money,
only rap about guns, only rap about sluts“
wrap your mouth around some nuts
We from Tha Row we don't say our shit clean
So fuck you A&R's, we carry AR-15's
You gotta reach the pages thats beneath the covers
I got a foul mouth but I respect peoples mothers
And I don't need yo punk ass police to judge us
All we need is for the streets to love us
But I bet you didn't know

[Hook:]
What, What, What, What, What, What, What
Thought they knew about me
What, What, What, What, What, What, What
Thought they knew about me

[Verse 2: Eastwood]
Me and my life, through these wicked streets
The hard times made a nigga clock his G's
From Cali to Overseas
I'm a beast, the beat chopper
East, the heat luncher
with an intellect my frame to cock and let it pop ya
Can't stop the unstopable
Competition impossible
I'm leavin you weanie niggaz flatline in the hospital
Situation critical, that he say, she say
Or get that ass done in an alley we say
I'm a Boss Baller, On Tha Row, A Shot Caller
E.G., Crooked I and the Wood, we slick talkers
Uncle Curtis got some bad hoes
And Uncle Bucky got some bad dope,
let's put it in a mix and smoke
The E-A-S-T-W-O-O-D
So why they hate me, it's crazy
Cause I came from a dysfunctional family
My life deserves a grammy
Coward niggaz kick rocks
for that ass get popped
stomped out and dropped
So what you thought nigga?

[Hook 2:]
But you really don't
You really don't know about me (Oh yeah, yeah)
But you really don't
You really don't know about me

[Verse 3: E.G.]
You thought you knew, what you knew
But you don't know me homie
You thought you seen, what you saw
But you can't see me homie
The Fed's watchin my words
Cause they don't like what they heard
A black man with some knowledge
But they got nothin on me
I dropped the sack a long time ago
And pit up the mic
So got some game from uncle Bucky,
And now I'm tight
On the streets to the stage
you don't know about me
I did the same pimp game
And now I'm readin bout it
From the streets of KC to the CPT
Shook up the hood and hollywood
and now I'm on TV
You can't see a nigga like E.G.
I'm here to set your bitch asses free
Here till i got it deep
Get On your knees and say please, please, please
Like James Brown
Even stanks in your mothafuckin draws
Gone with jiggle on my balls
And walk heads down the hall

[Hook:]
What, What, What, What, What, What, What
Thought they knew about me
What, What, What, What, What, What, What
Thought they knew about me

I'm A Boss (Freestyle) lyrics - Crooked I

Niggaz want me to kill 'em if Crooked I hit ya
With a couple of them shots then your hommies gon' die wit ya
They some internet dry snitches
That'll have me stuck in the cell less than fine bitches on fly pictures
But If I catch him Where nobody's lookin'
The shawty beam him up like Scotty took him
While his mommy's yellin' somebody book him
Put him under the jail
Your son sleeping with the fish I put him under a whale
Well...
The streets, they put me under a spell
It was magic like I left LA up right under [?]
I swell, I'm in your hood before you choppers can find me
By myself nothing but my shadow walking behind me
I'M A SHOOTER!!! Thats how the ghetto drama designed me
Throwing up W's on stage like I'm PAC in the 90s
I grew up under the poverty line
Robbery crime
Better be everywhere the gwap would be that philosophy's mine
Yeah I'm married to the streets its monogamy time
My visions coming true for wishing unless the prophecy's lyin'
I'm moving quiet a summer breeze
I ain't talking six figures when I say I got a hundred K's and a hundred G's (ssuutt suutt!!!)
They ride for me motherfucker please
Take your oxygen as if niggaz was cutting trees
I'm overseas COB they religion, they get the tattoo
Thats what [?] the realist rap do
Its biblical cover does in lamb blood when we pass through
The thug gospel I'm that dude
I'm A Boss house tucked in 'em hills
You did it with wack shit man I done it with skills
Mrs Gates Mrs Cosby we in love with them bills
Call it Jae call it Meek they I'm fucking with Mills (Talk to 'em)
You never seen me in your TV screen
But I bet the block hear the engine when the GT scream
Giving niggaz the blues like when BB sing
With word play like his last name meet thee king (hello)
Watch the throne I should've ripped otis
Chicks notice I'm the shit focused on my grip
So they slip into hypnosis
They know your shit bogus
So my dick get dibbs on which ever pair of lips closest
I'm high voltage
I'm quite Rogish
I touch you nigga take your power I'm something like Rogue is
Shady Records whose stunting like those kids? (huh?)
I'm on my third deal there's nothing like showbiz (Yeah!!!)
Smoking mirrors you burried me alive
But I wasn't in that coffin you thought u carried me inside
I appearently survived
You should barely be suprised
'cause my character [?]
Was preparing me to rise
And if you thought failure was the way my story goes
You don't know who you fucking with... Glory hole
Haha hahahahahahahahaha
You don't know who you fucking with Glory hole

You niggaz crazy out there
Its COB nigga
PlanetCOB.com
COBworldorder.com
PlanetCOB vol.2 right now available
Million Dollar Story coming
I'm a shameless plug thug

Ssuutt!!!!

I'm On One (Freestyle) lyrics - Crooked I

Fuck it I'm on one
Slaughterhouse we on 2
Point oh shit, point your shit to the garbage now bitch y'all ain't it
Everybody talking about that and this
Crooked did a song with Canibus
Am I supposed to be beefing with him
Let me tell you what the answer is
No no no nowadays do I listen to half his shit
No no no and I bet the M&S say that's a diss
Gotta keep it real man I will not flip flop
Grind every day I'm a go hard...
Cops wanna track me but fans will be happy
Until I kill a nigga on worldstarhiphop
But but but your boy ain't going out like no wankster
Cause intelligence is the brand new gangster
The number one spot is in danger
Let me tell you why you rappers ain't fucking with the Slaughterhouse gang
You got a little flow that's who we need
Got a little ice a little jewellery
But none of you can fool with the crew to me
Name a nigga rapping better maybe 2 or 3 and that's it
All the above you call it circle love
Homie I merk the thug
Wait a minute bitch purple bug
This pink drink there's a lotta bottles
Ace of spade let's celebrate it
Cause we made it
I'm a drink it till my... sound sedated
Cause I'm faded you can hate it
Ask me if I give up a fuck
Homeboy I came from nothing this time I'm a live it
I'm so real I'm a needle in a haystack
When I drop by tell your peoples to payback
Yeah I got papers still doing drive-bys
With this... Desert Eagle and a Maybach
Cause we don't play that
We don't play that shit
Nigga I'm on one

LA Leakers (Freestyle) lyrics - Crooked I

You out there?
You are now tuned in
The lends zoomed in
The camera's recording
My Concorde Jordan's
Move from the shoes to the true's to the Gucci belt
Be sure
That it moved to the dude

Who the face of the West Coast
Let's go get him
Face of the West Coast
Let's go get him
Yeah
Face of the West Coast
Let's go get him
Yeah
Face of the West Coast
Let's go get him
L.A. Leakers
Just incredible
Sour milk

Let me show you how I'm built
I started off in bad meets evil on loud noises
Then I hit the BT cypher
Had to show the world
How wild southern cowboys do is
Had to give rappers of the underground voices
Then we dropped [?]
Then I had to murder the remix with Yelawolf and TI
Slaughter house is hot as hell
You're on that same old
But I'm like say more
Before enormous [?]
Guess what I'm trying to say is
That I'm still on the streets with it
Walking with my Gandhi gun
I'm so at peace with it
Please get it correct
Quick it's a piece with it
Far enough on your turnbuckle
Have you crying uncle
Like you and your niece did it
Show me a nigga who's against the incest
Beats get fucked royally you're really like sticking a dick in the princess
Would say I'm pushing weight
Like a nigga who fixing the bench-press
But that shit older than Oprah
Told you I've been
Yeah goes up
You slept on me nigga, dozed off
I get it jumping in this bitch like a [?]
Plus my dog talk like I'm the owner of Rock Nation cause I'm a cold boss
[?] Liter show
Don't play this for seven days and watch them say
Shit was all good just a week ago

God of the West Cost
Know the flow nice
When you signing shady aftermath and used to be on
Death row
God of the West Cost
Know the flow nice
When you signing shady aftermath and used to be on
Death row
God of the West Coast

L.A. Leakers
Just incredible
Sour milk
Shady records
What's up M?
You created a monster
Church
God of the West Coast

Light Up (Freestyle) lyrics - Crooked I

Is it my fault I go deeper than most you rappers can
Send prayers to all the families in Pakistan
Let em build the mosque over by ground zero
Every Muslim in America does not support the Taliban

First off, I'm a political boss
Take Malcolm Little then cross him with my criminal false
I'd done seen the houses niggas done bought
I'm a take it further, I'm about to go live in a vault
Yea, living like a greedy vulture
Cut me deep enough and find some Afrocentric culture
All about peace when I approach ya
If the elephant in the room is beef, consider me the poacher
Yea, this is for La Raza
Talking to revolutionaries in Swahili or Ruru Sasa [?]
Always keep a bad chick in mi casa
Shouts out to my homegirl Leassa
Nah, I'm not the dude you assume
I been here even before leaving my mothers womb
I oh so been here for many moons
That's why my body's missing from my Egyptian tomb
Listen, what if Coretta Scott never buried her husband
What if there was never a need for Harriet Tubman
Prejudice is how some Americans function
Then the sheriffs come and lock me up for carrying guns in
Ever since we got a black president
They say racism is dead, well where's the evidence
Sean Bell, Oscar Grant, what do they represent
Huh? My skins is hated as it's ever been
And since God made me black instead of white
I keep a burner like Turner, I mean Nat instead of Ike
Rappers can unite every race under the sun
Hand wrapped around a mic, homie I'm the one
East side, Long beach, the son of a Osiris
Dropped outta mystery school although my grades were the highest
They gon' mention Crook in history fool, maybe I'm biased
Cause he is I and I am your highness
Bow down in the presence of a Pharaoh
Strike a peasant in the heart with a golden bow and arrow
44 in the apparel, I will blow a barrel
Shake the dice on the flo', oh I am taking your Deniro
I used to eat peanut butter out the jar
Now it's peanut butter guts when my doors ajar
In the gorgeous car, pull up the Porsche and park
In the Beverly Hills oyster bar, the boys a star

Listen With Your Heart lyrics - Crooked I

For those dead gone, yeah
Pull out a little little hard, show respect, yo

See you on the other side,
Down goes another one, Louie shades on my face, tears dropping under them
Another mother sun shot down, living troublesome
Grab this dead body out the coffin started hugging him
Please God why? I heard it in the cry, she collapsed on the casket, put murder in my eyes
I turn it when outside, grab the burner in my ride, if murder move in the circle, the circle will survive

See you on the other side
It's hard for me to face it, your number in cell, it's hard for me to erase it
Only thing I can do is get the 2 extra Glocks
Can't even say the name detective may connect the dots
When they come to hood murder, I don't respect the cops
Put your case in the cold files right next to pops

Biggy small's gone well let me crooked to don't laugh so respect, homie, it could be you
See you on the other side

Listen to your heart, when he's calling for you
Listen to your heart, that's nothing else you can do
I don't know where you're going and I don't know why
Listen to your heart before you tell him goodbye
Ok, bye, bitch.

N.W.A. (New West Anthem) lyrics - Crooked I

[Intro:]
Transmitting Live From Sector 3
L.B.C.

[Verse 1:]
Everybody On The Streets Waiting For My Album
The Shit Never Dropped People Askin Me How Come
Left Deathrow In 04 Was The Outcome
Reason This Nigga Round Cus I Was Without One
All About My Money Homie, I Gotta Pile Some
Since I'm The One Rappers Getting They Style From
C.O.B Block Boy, Crooked I Pull Out Guns
When I'm Out East They Sayin Crooked You Wile Some
I Been In The Mix, Quick Flippin Them Legitimate Chips
Dime Piece I Keep 10 Of Dem Chicks
Even Foreign Women Stick A Citizenship, Sit In My Cinnamon Whip
They Love A Criminal On A Gentleman Tip
I With My Click, I Don't Fuck With You Other Clowns
Rappers In My City, Bigly When I Was Underground
Now They Wanna Act Friendly Soon As I Come Around.
Maybe Cuz The Medallion Bringing A Hundred Pounds
What Now

[Chorus: Crooked I]
Gangstas Don't Dance We 2 Step, Nobody Can Stop Us, We Strollin On
When You See Us In The Club, Say Hi To The New West
We Gon Get It On Baby, All Night Long, Let Them Haters Go
Gangstas Don't Dance We 2 Step, Nobody Can Stop Us, We Strollin On
When You See Us In The Club, Say Hi To The New West
We Gon Get It On Baby, All Night Long

[Verse 2:]
Everybody From The West Know Crookeds A Boss Mayne
Reppin C.O.B., The Circle Of Boss Gang
Haters Though We Missed The Target, Thought We Was Off Aim
Disappeared A Year So These Suckas Talking
52 Blue Diamonds That's How The Cross Came.
Half A Millie On The Bling, Step Up Ma Floss Game
Niggas Used To Clown, Big W8 Take Small Bang
Now I Push Around Chunky Whips, That Y'all Cant
I'm Still In The Game, Nah Fuck Dat, I'm Killin The Game
Get Your Dame, She Feelin The Chain, She's Willin To Sit In The Range
In The Range, Infinite Intimate Thangs, Between Us She The Sillest Insane
Feel My Pain Mayne, Hood Life Bumpin My Arteries
I'm An Organ Donor Now, Who Want A Part Of Me
Haters In The Clun, Y'all Dudes Is Rnb
The Movie Is Called Fuck You Niggas Starring Me
Pardon Me

[Chorus:]
Gangstas Don't Dance We 2 Step, Nobody Can Stop Us, We Strollin On
When You See Us In The Club, Say Hi To The New West
We Gon Get It On Baby, All Night Long, Let Them Haters Go
Gangstas Don't Dance We 2 Step, Nobody Can Stop Us, We Strollin On
When You See Us In The Club, Say Hi To The New West
We Gon Get It On Baby, All Night Long

[Verse 3:]
Everybody Know The Industries The New Dope Game
That's Why The Flow Came Potent As Cocaine
Critics Say I'm Jus Another Rapper Looking For Mo Fame
Till You Walk A Mile In My Nikes You Don't Know Pain
I Been On My Grind Since Gazelles And Rope Chains
Dealt With The Ups And Downs Like It Was No Thang
Now I Give A Fo Fo Whenever I Role Mayne
Shoot It At Your Shoes, You Dance Like Soul Train
I Been In The Club, So Promoters Let Me In With A Snub
It's A Million Pretty Women To Rub
These Bitches Is Feelin A Thug, Swimmin They Cris & Livin It Bub
Dodger Fitted, This How This Nigga Does, Gimme Love
Baby Wanna Know The Reason I'm Rich,
Different Colour Hardtops, Every Season I Switch
That's How We Do It On The East Side, Speakin Of Which
When You See Me Wit My People, Long Beach In This Bitch
Deep In This Bitch

[Chorus:]
Gangstas Don't Dance We 2 Step, Nobody Can Stop Us, We Strollin On
When You See Us In The Club, Say Hi To The New West
We Gon Get It On Baby, All Night Long, Let Them Haters Go
Gangstas Don't Dance We 2 Step, Nobody Can Stop Us, We Strollin On
When You See Us In The Club, Say Hi To The New West
We Gon Get It On Baby, All Night Long

[Crooked I:]
New West
New West
New West
New West
New West
New West
New West
New West

Not For The Weak Minded lyrics - Crooked I (feat. Snow Tha Product)

Music affects your brain
Whether people will admit it or not
And you don't have to be weak minded for it to do so

All I wanna do is, go harder and harder
Get smarter than Harvard, go hard with the Slaughter
To keep it one hundred, I think the industry
Wanna see a nigga like me depart as a martyr
Walking on water, the flow is immaculate
Reading off the Dead Sea Scrolls as I'm rapping it
The track I'm crashing it
Making it look like a Cadillac had a bad accident
Cuz y'all ain't passionate, catch a jab to your abdomen
Then I'mma tap your chin, I'm a boss, you an applicant
Y'all cats pretend (never ever ever rap again)
Crooked I kick it in the hood
Pistol to protect me cuz I'm figuring it could
Homie, I’m living like a genie in a lamp
Rub me wrong, I wish a nigga would
Killers ready to get dirty
Some niggas who dress nerdy who ain't even touch 30
They quiet and ain't wordy, their firing ain't sturdy
I've been a couple of light years from any nigga that wanna discern me
So callate puto, Breaking Bad and I'm Tuco
Got the Hublot hanging out the bulletproof coupe though
If you didn't, now you do know!

[Hook:]
Yo, light that up, pour that up
Middle finger music, throw that up
Act like this cuz we don't give a fuck
(We don't give a fuck)
Cuz we don't give a fuck

Why should I, man, with my good eye
I can see all y'all snakes so I put my
Foot up your ass, kill em with success
Look how I pass em up, I'm like "Goodbye!"
Million dollar bitches get bucked in the face
If he ain't about money then your husband a waste
I'mma switch the scenery up to a bank
That's how a real nigga cut to the Chase
Pour a little vodka, load the Glock up
Then roll some bomb up that'll blow Sadam up
Pull up in the drop with Snow Tha Product
We don't give a fuck is our code of conduct

[Snow Tha Product:]
I've been at the shit through past due rents
Man I've been broke, I've been homeless, shit packed in bins
I've been at this since back when tax bracket shit
Was way past any practical math I did
Now I'm halfway past half to a capitalist
Three-fourths day of the year i rap top of the list
Now I'm really getting my dividends and stackin' up big
Gotta go back to where I'm from to mentally handle this shit
Cuz I've been a nobody so long, gonna readjust
Get a North Hollywood home
Still close enough to deal with bullshit deals
But yet far enough to be where Latin folks roam
All originality with a capital O
So the game wanna see a bitch broke with no soul
So I grasp it tight because a chick like me know
That I would rob these bitches because old habits die slow
Look I never been a punk and I never been a bitch
So you bitches better run, we all know the benefits
Cuz your 15's done when my 16's hit
Heard games are for fun but this game's bullshit
Bitch, no I did not come this far to quit
This argument is not even real
Went from not having a pot to piss to coppin' whips
And stocks and casas in hills
All these new bitches talking but chill
Watch when they get out of pocket, I'll kill
Any of them, got plenty of friends, in any event
I'll finish em off, no question, no squeal
Yes I am tired of all you sluts
That been coming in the game cause you bought your butts
Now you wanna claim fame cuz some guy you fucked
Is giving you a hood pass, should've passed you up
But yup, of course you lie, sit there and organize
Try to be more than just hoes, umm
Thinking you sort of tight cause someone wrote your lines
Thinking you whores have got flow, no
You can record the lies, gimme some more so I
Finally listen and hear dough
Cuz I've been trying to hear competition for a god damn year
But don't hear shit but ripoffs and hoes
Get off the blow, get up and get y'all a show
I have been hitting the road, building my own
Little by little but no, I do it all on my own
Yes I got dough, I don't split shit but to roll
Bitch I can show y'all the ropes
All of you hoes that got cosigns, clothesline dry ass
Stale ass bitches need those, I don't!

[Hook]

In the underground they put me on the throne
In the mainstream they say I don't belong
Talk about a nigga only good for a freestyle
Fuck that, we can go song-for-song
Word, I'm killing the best of men
Get rid of they next of kin, get rid of the pestilence
I give em a testament, I'm rebuilding the West
And I'm pissing off in the coffin that you resting in
Skinny jeans and leggings, you're anything but legend
I really bring the weapons, the semi beam behead ya
The guillotine'll sever my killing team and catch all my enemies
I bet you the ten of these will break you apart, yeah
Leaking in a puddle, whole hospital staff meeting in a huddle
Trying to figure out how to put your body parts back together
Just like the pieces of a puzzle
And I'm gone in the wind, yeah, I'm gone in the wind
I was fucked up, broke, really
Resting my Achilles, I'm balling again
Never going broke, say fuck that shit (fuck that shit)
Yeah fuck that shit
She don't fuck with Snow, fuck that bitch (fuck that bitch)
Fuck that bitch
Like imagination during masturbation
Fuck what you think, what the fuck did you think?
The day your opinions can cut me a check
That'll be the day I give a fuck what you think
You weak minded!

Pac & Biggie lyrics - Crooked I

I got my whole city with me
Grind to the beach in my hard top bentley
I got smoke in my lungs, liquor in my kidney
When I leave the game, they gonna mention my name
Like pac and biggie
Greatest of all time, greatest of all time
When I leave the game, they gonna mention my name
Like pac and biggie
Greatest of all time, greatest of all time
When I leave the game, they gonna mention my name

Because it's cob everything, homies know the meaning
Caucasian or black, [?] or belizean
My father never knew that he had million dollar seamen
I had to find a way in, got more family than [?]
Drugs in my deffo, bitch I'm on my hustle
Stay on like a biceps but goons on my muscle
Grind plus hustle like scrappy let's call it grosses
I'm doing bizness with asians, essays and blood [?]
Grown on the west coast, that's what I'm the air to
No one can compare to me I say what you scared to
I don't dance much, and motherfucker funny hair due
Listen hair dude, I'm in my grizzly and you bear fool
Yeah, the kid grew up in the hell hole
Took that fire put that on tracks minus the railroad
How many joints in your elbow?
Your arms, hell no what elbows are pound of weed for sale though, in hell

I got my whole city with me
Grind to the beach in my hard top bentley
I got smoke in my lungs, liquor in my kidney
When I leave the game, they gonna mention my name
Like pac and biggie
Greatest of all time, greatest of all time
When I leave the game, they gonna mention my name
Like pac and biggie
Greatest of all time, greatest of all time
When I leave the game, they gonna mention my name

Legendary as pac and biggie, harrio and ricky
Selling sounds all the pounds, the stereo I sticky
Is it rapper trap money, the scenario is tricky
Either way that it go, when I'm buried you won't forget me
No matter what you heard it's my motherfucking dominion
Take your ass hole and shove it up your opinion
The menace and flow, even my [?] is call me the genesis
Cause I've been the truth from the beginning
I'm bar raising, cuban cigars blazing
White european whip call it my caucasian
From starvation to becoming the leader of a dark nation
Move quiet like I'm park mason
My hood credit is good, I'm [?] visa
I move through the belly of the beast like magnesium
You could be a star, I'm a be a tsar
Black cesar, forget it, I'm iller than amnesia
Remember

I got my whole city with me
Grind to the beach in my hard top bentley
I got smoke in my lungs, liquor in my kidney
When I leave the game, they gonna mention my name
Like pac and biggie
Greatest of all time, greatest of all time
When I leave the game, they gonna mention my name
Like pac and biggie
Greatest of all time, greatest of all time
When I leave the game, they gonna mention my name

I'm on my long beach shit, alcohol in my dining
A mafiozzo outlaw, a somalian pirate
I'm a molotov cocktail, involved in a riot
Flames burn you fuck boys, till all of you quiet
Cob on that junior mafia shit for real though
In this bitch deep like an 18 inch dildo
Haters check my passport, I could put everything you want in my [?] sport
This is a man's sport, you gotta have an iron stomach or you're [?] from the highest summit
The top I see bodies flying from it
I love this game I just study the science of it
The [?] coming, 100, let me tell you again nigger.

I got my whole city with me
Grind to the beach in my hard top bentley
I got smoke in my lungs, liquor in my kidney
When I leave the game, they gonna mention my name
Like pac and biggie
Greatest of all time, greatest of all time
When I leave the game, they gonna mention my name
Like pac and biggie
Greatest of all time, greatest of all time
When I leave the game, they gonna mention my name.

Respect Your OG's lyrics - Crooked I

[Intro:]
Mmm hmm [clears throat]
Yea
Ay Jim Gittum
We need some of that old school gangsta shit from the westside
Yea... all you niggaz out there who love all the westcoast gangsta shit
this the history class
All you new niggaz out there, pay attention
Respect your OG's

My nigga Ice-T set it off with "6'n the Mornin'"
Rhyme paid the O.G. a rich californian
Made a nigga proud of the city I was born in
Gangbang capital you die without warnin
Bangin that C.I.A. Cube's recordings
Before when Eazy hit with the jheri curl and Jordans
Fat girl on my jock I was important
The 80's crack sendin niggaz to see the warden
Thunderbird and cool-aid straight liquor abuse
Cortez Nike's with the alligator swoosh
12 years old in the back of a six-deuce
craigers and dimes but of course it's on juice
So we lift the caboose, never went back to school
We bangin King T's "Act a Fool"
First pair of house shoes on the album cover
like my cousin from Brooklyn used to say word to mother
It's these California streets that made me a young g
I was on Low Profiles ridin with Dub-C
In a MAAD Circle all of the homies would puff weed
they cross coors pendeltons rockin them Chuck T's
If it ain't rough it ain't got the right feelin
Ruthless Villian like Ren niggaz chillin
In a world when pyramid D.O.C. was spillin the raw
ready and willin the law
They wasn't feelin that "Fuck the Police" shit well stall me out
or you be "One Less Bitch" I gotta worry about
A nigga "Always Into Somethin" man never been a fruitcake
Ever since doctor gave my momma by due date
"Straight Checkin 'Em" before a nigga even knew Eiht
Compton's Most Wanted dropped the 5 mic blue tape
I had "Music to Drive By" in my speakers
Fresh from my golf hat to my lotto sneakers
Plus pops never gave me shit but his features
So OG's and these MC's were my teachers
Too $hort taught me how to talk to a slut
Like, "Can I ask you a question you like to fuck?"
Got my duck sick which meant my dick sucked
A young nigga born to mack after a quick buck
Pistols stay tucked nobody could disarm me
You and what Uncle Jam's Army could harm me
I Lynch Mobs and my "Freedom Got an AK" you dickwad
Hit a nigga with the tre eight forget squabs
You know we love to draw
Now I got a murder rap like Above the Law
Just another execution and busters soft
The we lowridin niggaz gotta hug the 'Shaw
Yea floss without a dentist
we all got a little CPO in us this is the "Ballad of a Menace"
Playin in my boombox I'm walkin down Venice, Beach
IV Life the Mack 10 is in his reach
Wait, "L.A Zoo," DJ Pooh
DJ Quik if you don't have a DJ Clue
Let me tell you we got DJ's too
The Imperial, Sir Jinx, Battlecat, DJ Who
The o.g. damn we def
Young niggaz transformin like JAZZY JEFF
I scratch you out when the fight comes
Me and my Sick Wid' It Click, we like Spice 1
We keep a nice gun and my knife will slice your right lung
when your reachin for the shine it blind your eyes like the bright sun
Thats sets in Cali gang of war bangers
if they set up in the alley get wet up in death valley
Its 2 times, worse than True Crime
Menace II Society, and Colors was 2 kind
Bullets wipe away your Good Times like JJ's dad
have you mumblin like JJ Fad
Samallamma Dumallama when the AK mad
The gauge go "Rodney O and Joe Cooley" same base they had
Nigga sawed-off shotgun, hand on the pump
"How I Can Just Kill a Man" playin when I dump
This is for "La Raza," black Kid Frost
Better stay Mellow Man when you talkin to a boss
C.O.B., LBC same place Snoop was introduced to Dre
By a nigga named Warren G
without that piece of history I wonder where the Beach would be
And I still gotta give it up to you know who
We'll talk about him on part 2
Yea I still gotta give it up to you know who
We'll talk about him on part 2
...PAC

[Outro:]
Walk with me walk with me
yea walk with me walk with me teach you bout your OG's [x3]

Run lyrics - Crooked I

Yeah, let's bring it over here to the LAPD man
Uh Oh,
Whenever 5-0 hit, my mind's speakin' on some survival shit
I'm an Outlaw, 5-0 is who I'm rivals with
So I'm out y'all, like they quit
Quicker than a slug that a rifle spit
A thug quicker than Michael bit
Run, Gestapo's comin' up fast so I gotta dash
We hood stars and they never wanted a autograph
One of the homies didn't run and they shot his ass
He paralyzed now and can't move his bottom half
Standin' still is the silly plan
Even if I gotta snatch a innocent bitch right out of her mini van
I knock you off in [?] and wouldn't give a damn
They respondin' with shots fire
I'm the trigger man
I run, I'm ditchin' out fools
They never [?]
Penitentiary time and Crooked I just don't miss
Plus my homies incarcerated told me to stay on the bricks
So I

[Hook: Ghostface Killah]
Run! If you sell drugs in the school zone
Run! If you getting' chased with no shoes on
Run! Fuck that! Run! Cops got, guns!
They givin' out life like bird tons
Run! If you ain't do sh!t, you it
That next felony nigga, it's like three zip
So, Run! Hop fences, jump over benches!
When you see me comin' get the fuck out the entrance!
Run! Fuck that! Run! Cops got guns! Mothafucka...

Damn, these mothafuckas are on my ass man
I gotta make it back to mothafuckin' Long Beach Boulevard, fuck

Shady's #1 (Freestyle) lyrics - Crooked I

Yo, Slaughterhouse is the movement
C.O.B./S.M.H. is the new venture
Eminem is a genius, yo Paul is a boss
Shout out Yelawolf, salute to D12
Rest in peace Proof, let's get it
Shady's #1, Shady's #1... (GO! GO!)
Shady's #1, Shady's #1...

Got that #1 hip-hop album out there so I bought that whip
Nigga said Crooked was garbage, meanwhile his bitch won't get off my dick
Niggaz wanna front on the guy, if I was you homie I would get off that quick
Got the charts goin up on a Tuesday, fuck that, I'ma top that shit (yeah)
Shady's #1, Shady's #1
A nigga said Crooked was garbage, meanwhile his bitch won't get off my dick
Shady's #1, Shady's #1
Got the charts goin up on a Tuesday, fuck that, I'ma top that shit

I was talkin to Paul in New York the other day, he said "Crooked, this a great year"
The (Shady 15) went #1 on iTunes, I guess a statement was made clear
I came home, went straight to the booth, I'm doin everything you snakes fear
Killin rappers right and left, bringin more death than Macbeth, a modern day Shakespeare
Yeah, spittin bars in a (Cxvpher) while I'm filmin in the heart of the city, that was some G shit
Yeah, mentionin Ferguson and Darren Wilson in the middle of that rap, that's some me shit
Yeah, I'm from the City by the Sea so you know the flow wavy and might get you seasick
You're fallin off, I'm watchin your career slide down that mountain like I'm sittin on a ski lift
I'm just spittin on a remix, cause the boy loco with the rhyme flow
Somethin everybody know like GEICO, (Psychopath Killer) goin Michael
(Sex, Money, Hip-Hop) is all I know - I'm in my crib and I'm chillin in my (House Slippers)
Thinkin 'bout how the industry treated me, (Some Love Lost) but I'm in my (PRhyme) though!
Shady's #1 - we got the charts goin loco (we #1 nigga!)
But (Y'all Ready Know) though (y'all 'ready know)
I'm (Hammer Dancin) with my fo'-fo'
(Kxng Crooked, do you have any words for the police?) FUCK the po-po!
Cause the pig Darren Wilson wanna see a nigga like Kxng Crooked on ice
Cyber Monday man, the consequences of killin a very low price
You're mad Ray got reinstated, you're focused on the wrong Rice
Cops pull up, kill a kid with a pellet gun, they ain't even think twice
Tamir, so I roll up on the cops playin "Psychopath Killer"
Hockey mask in the duffel bag, throwin bullets like a Pittsburgh Steeler
As a matter of fact, I'm namin my rifle Mac Miller
Cause it's aimin for your faces, you gon' think you're (Watching Movies When it Sound Off)
Then I'ma let Snoop tell you what the case is (murder was the case that they gave me)
This time we kill 'em with the charts, Crooked is intelligent, I kill 'em with the smarts
It's a brand new era, I'm talkin 'bout for me, God bless the Kxng, you gon' feel it when it starts
I promise, deadly the flows is, and what a lot of people knows is
I've been a (Kxng) before the name change mayne, I put that on Moses

December 16th, "Sex, Money & Hip-Hop" mixtape
Ice Man on the motherfuckin boards
Kxng Crooked in the booth, Slaughterhouse behind me
COB! Shady's #1, Shady's #1, yeah
Y'all know man, couple people actin like they don't know, hahaha
I like Odd Future, hahaha
I like y'all Odd Future niggaz man, haha
That nigga Tyler said, "Shady XV was ass"
Young nigga though, heh
And I like that nigga so you know, it's all good
Nothin I do is ass though, I will not partake, hahaha
Yo, do niggaz have man-crushes on Em?
I need to know, the people need to know
It's COB nigga!

So Damn Hood lyrics - Crooked I (feat. Sisqo)

[from "Untouchable" album]

[Crooked I: x2]
It feels so good, when you so damn hood

[Crooked I]
Peep me out though
You niggas soft outta control, on your next video
You probably do the splits like the godfather of soul
While I'm rottweiler patrol, first I clock dollars
Then I pop collars with hoes, I got a problem with foes
Still in the club, hot boy dropping them bows
Nigga, Crooked I is the one that chicks adore
They put their lips on my dick and give me chips and more
Yall should stop, you off the block you faking
I walk with glocks, don't talk to cops for nathin
I brought them choppers in case of al-ter-cation
I aims and pops in the face of confrontation
Speaking raw terror, I'll have your momma picking paul bearers
Broke niggas, yea, y'all error
Got to show 'em how to new age rap
But I'm still ghetto as the last swallow of Kool-Aid left
We so damn hood

[Chorus: Sisqo]
Pussy out if you would lets get good baby we so damn hood
We ride and another would, its understood that we so damn hood
Bust the script if you would, wish you could, nigga we so damn hood
Everybody feeling good like we should, baby we so damn hood

[Crooked I]
Stop the screaming, can't nobody in the area to help
If you was homophobic, nigga you'd be scared of yourself
Listen as I, start to whoop ass, why?
Would you try Crooked I, will you die like the last guy
I told you I would put holes riders man
Destiny's Child be the only "Survivors" man
Nigga I been hot, whipping the six drop
Hit you with ten shots, giving me big props
My delivery flip-flops to the tick tock
and it don't stop, giving the big glock
I'm smacking you haters up, stacking the paper
Like I signed an major contract with the Lakers
It's C-R put them with E-R double O trouble blow
Ghetto star haters split your wig
And do the thang in this game 'til I'm O.G. it's Mr. Big

[Chorus]

[Crooked I]
How many wanna know what I love? Holla, niggas who love me
We six deep in the ridiculous humvee
Peeling 50's and dubs off, in the mall
Break your face, like Mike Tyson with his gloves off
I'm so hood and ghetto fo life
I park an five in the driveway and ready to fight
If you think I ride with metal you right
Commenting federal crimes only an federal type
It's like, every where I go, all I know fo' sho'
That this The Row, that we gets the dough
What's the R-O-W like
Slug one and you take your dime because you aint fucking her right
Yea yea I nothin fo life, big pipes stuck in your wife
In the bed it's us and a dyke
You should never get it mixed up, big nuts, get clutched
Thick sluts, get fucked, dick sucked, bitch what? (telll meeeee)

[Chorus x2]

Still Tha Row lyrics - Crooked I (feat. Virginya Slim)

[from "Dysfunktional Family" soundtrack]

[Intro: Virginya Slim & Crooked I]
Yeah..
Death Row, baby
(Death Row!)
Heavy hitters
Uh-uh
(Yeah)
(Why am I?)
Crooked I
(Yeah)
(Who are you, though?)
Virginia Slim, baby
(Let 'em know somethin')
That we ain't going nowhere
(Nowhere, niggas)
Second dynasty here
(Yeah)
Play boy

[Crooked I]
Tell me what's all the fuss, one hundred seventy five police
wastin' all of the taxpayer's dollars just to holler at us?
Mad cause the Benzes is hot, the Impalas is plush
Nobody bothered me when I used to hop on the bus
Now the cops follow me, the life of Dominick's rough
They wanna throw a young don in some cuffs
But it's... (still Death Row)
I let 'em know, if they didn't remember
I know, some of you suckas got hidden agendas
But I'm, sick of pretenders
Niggas'd rather stick their dick in a blender
Than to go against the sickest contender
Get your ridiculous click to surrender
My game code is winter when it ends in December
Scoop your chicken and Bend Hurr... tender
You know how young niggas roll
Send ya hoe... to your husband, walking pigeon-toed
The West Coast is ours
Still them other niggas old
Over fifty million sold

[Chorus: Virginya Slim & Crooked I]
It's still Tha Row... ugh
(Baby, we still stackin' money up)
And what we gon' do?
(Lady, we still don't give a fuck)
And how we roll y'all?
(Baby, we still in the club beat)
We represent, what?
(We still represent the streets)
It's still Tha Row
(Baby, we still spendin' star bucks)
And what we throwin' up?
(Sweetheart, we still throw them balls up)
And who we beefin' with?
(We still beefin' with the po-po)
And what they say we is?
(We still ghetto)
It's still Tha Row

[Crooked I]
Some of you gangsta rappers out there poppin' seventy pills
Man, you bangin' on wax cats'll never be real (Marks!)
This ghetto celebrity still do whatever he feel
Look at my billboard, I took a shit on Beverly Hills
That's 'cause it's all about Crooked (Yeah, it's all about green)
Around y'all (We stand tall) As who? (Yao Ming) Y'all mean?
And Crooked keep a heat compartment
I don't speak to rappers that work for the Police Department
Nine milli, I eat your heart with
I seek the target, reach in garments, squeeze diesel vomits
I don't need y'all to start me
Ten million albums sold? Maybe if I look like Paul McCartney
But I'm dark as dark Bacardi, dark as Marcus Garvey
Sparks cigars that start the party... ugh!
And we ain't lettin' suckers in
I got a lovely deal and I own my publishing'

[Chorus]

[Outro 1: Virginya Slim & Crooked I]
Yeah, Red Bone... Queen, Virginia Slim, Miss Gail Gotti
(This for my gangsters)
Representin'... heavy hitters
Death Row, baby
We done slept too long
(And for my hustlers)
Y'all done had y'all time
Now we back
Ready to keep it gangster
(And for my riders)
Yeah... the real ones
The ride or die ones
Come on..

[Crooked I]
And I heard every single word that you say at your show
But when we at the awards ceremony, they have to go
S.W.A.T. Team stormin' the label, one of 'em's even pointing a A.K. at the door
Another day at Tha Row
They say we only out to split wigs
What about the hospital trips givin' gifts to sick kids?
Oh, I see, you want us ALL doing six bids
It's okay, we still big cars and sick cribs, the Death Row way
No way... Crooked came into this game to lose
I'm anxious, I'ma change the rules
I'm dangerous, I'm a gangster Langston Hughes
I'm a mistress that you can't confuse
I'm from Tha Row, so if I piss it'll make the news

[Chorus]

[Outro 2: Crooked I]
Yeah... I know you're lovin' that
Turn on your T.V.... open up a newspaper or somethin'
Read all about us... them ghetto cats
Tryin' to shove us out the game, but they can't
There's a ghetto in every city in America
And I'm from the Big West
Second dynasty... Death Row is back!
Yeah!
All you mutts get off our nuts
Chuuuch!
Ah, ha...!
Ha, ha, ha, ha.

Sweet (Freestyle) lyrics - Crooked I

[Intro:]
They talking to me like...
They talking to me, right?
They saying...

[Verse:]
Ye shall be blessed if thou worketh
So for fifty two weeks, I showed you my style perfect
Once in a while, one of the realest niggas shall surface
I'm C.O.B., plus I slaughtered all the house verses
It's foul circus, I vow to hold it down
It's my proud purpose
When the crowd purchase my sound, make yours sound malnourished
My mouth curses, please excuse the views
Only four letter word I never use is "lose"
Slaughterhouse headlines, yeah my crew's the news
Domestic violence and pet names, yeah we abusing booths
Better store the metaphors
Nigga, remember these similies
So when you say you're better off yelling — nigga, please
By any means necessary I became legendary on the Internet
And my next block is fucking your desktop
Like having sex with a secretary — you get it, Jack?
My intellect is a ball, brains given to me by teachers
Who predicted I'd be homeless bumming a cigarette — huh
You got me mixed like the letters when a dyslexic send a text
This is where my destiny interjects
In the 'jects where the gats bang
I'm fresh off B.E.T, but looking like I crack slang
What up, homie?
I think I'm living like the bosses deserve
Cause I'm the C.E.O. of my balls and my word
I'm burying beats in the cemetery dirt
Abusing the music like the producers should've sent it to me first
Tracks get shat on like toilets get sat on
Beats get spat on, Long Beach hat on
The top five, least I see myself inside
Cause who fucking with us — "us" being me, myself, and I?
Yeah, I'm sending rappers to the afterlife
You arrogant cowards — you a dick and a pussy, you a hermaphrodite
I'm something soft in this game, that's what they acting like
Nigga, I'm from the gutter where a G.E.D. is a bragging right
And some nigga named Marvin describes the appetite
A sea on a horse, a hundred watt bulb
That's my description when I grab a mic
Cause I'm high as a satellite
You haters get your chatter right
Young'un, I been here a while
I could've been a quitter a long time ago
Bitter a long time ago
But if success is a bitch, Crooked is gon find the ho
She can hide, I'm seek her like "Eeny-miny-mo"
Too many rap verbals around you dummies
I'm like them rubber bands on a hundred g

This Is My Life Man lyrics - Crooked I

[from "Waist Deep" soundtrack]

Every Life As A Shorty Shakin Be So Rough
Life As A Shorty Shakin Be So Rough Every
Life As A Shorty Shakin Be So Rough Every Every
Life As A Shorty Shakin Be So Rough
Every Life As A Shorty Shakin Be So Rough Every Every
Life As A Shorty Shakin Be So Rough

Here S How It Started Out
1 Day My Fathers Out
He Never Came Back
7 Kidz In My Mamaz House
So Now We Drumerd Out
Money Wise We Quater Drowned
Get That Green Paper By Enemies
Now Thats What I'm About
And Here S Another Reason
Its Not The Summer Season
Ain't No Utilities On In My House
My Little Brother Freezin
How Can I Hustle Sleepin
Late Night To The Cud I'm Creeping
I Can Hear That Money Breathing
I Leave U Bust In Sleeping
Them Streets Were Under Handed
Too Young To Understand It
It Makes My Nerves Bad
Thugin As The Youngest Band Hun
But I Cud Not Run And Had It
I Had To Man Up
I Wanted To Go To College Probably Fucked My Plans Up
I Want To Be A Scholar How I Ended In Hand Cuffs
Every Night My Mamaz Cryin
But I Got To Stand Tough
Look At Me I'm Waiving Pistols
Gimmi Every Thing U Got I Screeming
15 And I'm On A Mission
God Help Me Get Away From These Deamons

This Is My Life Man U Say U Understand
U Claim U Feelin My Pain But U Really Don't Give A Damn
U C Me In Them Streets
No Lyin On These Beach
I Speak The Truth And Proof
Man I Tell U Who I Am

This Is My Life Man U Say U Understand
U Claim U Feelin My Pain But U Really Don't Give A Damn
U C Me In Them Streets
No Lyin On These Beach
I Speak The Truth And Proof
Man I Tell U Who I Am

15 And I'm On A Mission
God Help Me Get Away From These Deamons
They Block My Rightous Vision
I Can C Them Even When I Dreamin
Wish We Was The Cause To Struggle
Wish We Was All In Trouble
Wish We Get Pass All The Mistries
Wish We Can Solve The Puzzle
People Don't Understand Me I Got To Help My Family
My Focus Is Un Canny
What Caused For The Future Hemi
Enemies Wouldn't Care To Twist Me
Gun Shots Here Barely Miss Me
When U Thugin Out There Is Risky
But The Man Upstairs Is With Me
Ive Lost So Many Homies Some Even Burned Alive
V R Been Part Of This Shit
Way B4 We Learn To Drive
Only Thing U Hearing In Both Ears Is That Verse 5
Cuz When U Leave On With Ur Chrome U Wont Return Alive
What Kind Of Person Am I
Goin Up In This Savage Hood
Wish I Was Average Man
Crooked I Is Damaged Goods
My Past Is Not The Best
Its Bad And I Confess
But I Gotta Make It So So Many Don't Think On My Success

This Is My Life Man U Say U Understand
U Claim U Feelin My Pain But U Really Don't Give A Damn
U C Me In Them Streets
No Lyin On These Beach
I Speak The Truth And Proof
Man I Tell U Who I Am

This Is My Life Man U Say U Understand
U Claim U Feelin My Pain But U Really Don't Give A Damn
U C Me In Them Streets
No Lyin On These Beach
I Speak The Truth And Proof
Man I Tell U Who I Am

This Is My Life Man Its Much More Than Music Homie
Stare At Me This Is The Young Mans Medicine Right Here
This Is My Life Homie
U Know I'm Talkin About
Way More Than Music
Ghetto America
Ghetto Mother Fuckin America
This Is The Life He Gave Me
This Is My Life Homie

Life As A Shorty Shakin Be So Rough
Life As A Shorty Shakin Be So Rough Every Every
Life As A Shorty Shakin Be So Rough Every Every
Life As A Shorty Shakin Be So Rough
Rough

Uh-Oh lyrics - Crooked I (feat. Silva Satin)

Uh-oh nigga
Bring it
This is what happens when you bring the orchestra to the ghetto (live orchestra)
Yea, is ya'll ready for this?

Bein' the ghetto representative I am
I'm guaranteed to slam
When I drops that whoopty wop bam
Somebody stop me from poppin
I'll be god damned
I'm at the chop shop gettin my drop top slammed
I'm hotter than a skillet
Grabbin' the mic to kill it
Pillage your village
With the illest lyrics
I feel as though my skill is the realest asset
That I possess
It's Crooked I takin' over the west, yes
I'm at the Benz dealership, cell phone and a glock
Straight outta the ghetto lookin' like I don't belong on the lot
But I'ma cop one, drop one
Then I'ma smash through LA county
Jump out that V6 with house shoes and brownies
Flossin' on the one time
Money burnin like a vampire in sunshine (burn)
For those who don't know what I said
Game I'm spillin'
It's like the ceilin'
Over your head

[CHORUS:]
It's the C-R double uh-O uh-O K-E-D
Rockin' the whole sha-oh uh-oh
It's the C-R double uh-O uh-O K-E-D
Rockin the whole sha-oh uh-oh
Uh-oh, uh-oh, uh-oh, uh-oh

The prolific writer inside of this pacific sider
Won't let me write up
Simple hate in spite of the money I might acquire
I gotta be tighta
Than any thug that recite a
Yea my pockets mighta get wider
But see I'm still a RIDA
I slide up on hoes who be clubbin'
'Cause I don't see nothin wrong
With shovin' a muffin up in your oven
The lovin' after the huffin and the puffin
You can choose, I ain't hand-cuffin
Baby I'm reppin from the W-E-S
Wait a minute... T-S
I-D-E-S we get ready to B.S.
P.S. we fresh for '99 you suckas
No more hittin' licks and trippin' off these fuckers
Now that ski-mask is strictly for Aspen
I used to crack crews like statues in Agnes
Now I got 'em slam dancin' like Marilyn Manson fans
And throwin' a tantrum to the anthem

[CHORUS]

Known Crooked I comin' steadily, heavily
In felony they tellin' me my pedigree
It better be incredibly high fidelity
See, let it be known hypothetically
Step to me?
Wrong theoretically
Your head will be flown, flown
I'm backstage in the zone
It's 10:54
Six minutes Crooked I and you're on
Uh-uh on first I do my s-s-song
Then I take a lady h-h-home

[CHORUS]

...And there you have it
Thats what happens when the T to the I-L
Connects with Mr. Crooked I
You see us comin?
Uh-oh