Go...
Yeah... you wanna know what this is my nigga
(The creased khaki flow)
The creased khaki flow ykno what I'm talking about, that gangsta shit, what
else (the white tee spit)
Yeah, I'm talking about a whole motherfuckin can of starch nigga
(the creased khaki flow)
And one crease comin down the middle of a white t-shirt yeah
(the white tee spit)
Crooked I's cold-blooded like I gotta Rick James degree
I'm so rugged, switch lanes with me
I'm so thuggish, ho's love it, flip change, live dangerously
Only lames spit game for free
You damn right this man writes his raps like his life's in a crisis
And I'm twice as sick as Ms. Anne Rice is
I stand right up squeezin the mic lifeless
You might like my concise preciseness... like this
Cats came in the rap game and claimin they crack slangin, the gat aimin
In fact, they act just like Matt Damon
Homie my gat'll slay men
You cats say when and... blaow
I roll up on your block then I blast
Cops finna ask who shot you while you rockin an oxygen mask
I hit the gas in the drop finna smash to the spot
Got my glock locked in the stash spot in the dash
My six cruise on big shoes
I'm a lit fuse with sick views
I got issues, I misuse... pistols
Say we in combat, I spazmatic like a crazy Vietnam cat
[Hook:]
Yeah, crease your motherfuckin khakiz up
Juice the batteries in your low-rider caddies up
Chuck Taylors, white tees, slang cavy what
These streets made me a trigger-happy nut
Yeah, crease your motherfuckin khakiz up
Juice the batteries in your low-rider caddies up
White tees, Chuck Taylors, slang cavy what
These streets made me a trigger-happy nut
Yeah, it's young Crooked
Yeah you had a leg but my pump took it
Now you hip-hop cuz you one-footed
I lick shots, drop, here comes bullets
I leave scenes sick as Hitchcock
News won't even run footage (tell em)
I come hooded jus like a grim...reaper
Slim... keeper, 9 double m heater
Creepin in tha streets, deep in the seats of tha jeep
Beatin new releases through 10 speakers
It gets deeper
I'm bringin that long beach feeling back
See me on tha eastside where all of them killers at
But my enemies don't wear raiders, saints, or even a steelers hat
They wear a badge... how real is that?
No matter what, ghetto life is still in my veins
If you poverty-living, I know you feelin my pain
I'm still sick in the brain, skill spit with such meticulous game
Shoot ridiculous like Nicholas Van Exel
Guess who's sexing your step-daughters
A nigga who can draw glocks better than sketch-artists
When I walk in the club, hug your ho
Hustlers know, I'm nut-so with the thugsta flow
Everything's open, nothing is closed
Magazine's throwing me on them fuckin covers to pose
Look at young papi, cocky, never sold one copy
Gun cocked rocky, please come stop me
So and so is cool, what's his name is aight
Homeboy is okay, but Crooked I is tyte
That's what's heard, that's my word, act absurd
You cats get served cuz I rap disturbed
I'm closing doors with the quickness
I'm in the Pocanos poking hos hoping you don't poke your nose in my business haters
I'm scopin those from a distance
Relentless foes get a broken nose for persistence
Absolutely, cats bringin gats to shoot me
I even watch all them rats actin goofy
Disguised as groupies, that's a doozy
What's that bulge under your shirt?
That's a uzi... excuse me
[Hook]
Yeah! Long Beach is back, I told y'all niggaz man
I'm comin down Atlantic Ave.
letting my paint drip on the motherfuckin street '61 rag
ay style, we gonna get this money and buy the Queen Mary 5-6-2
I told y'all
Long Beach is ba-a-a-a-a-ACK! nigga! gyeah!
Creased Khaki Flow...The White Tee Spit
Jim Gittum...Crooked I
C.O.B. til we di-i-ie
Boom Boom Clap lyrics - Crooked I
[Intro]
Yea this is for gangsta's only
The dance floor's packed and them thangs is on me
These cats wanna hate cause they dangers on me
We strapped in the club, so it's dangerous homie
[Verse 1]
Boom Boom Clap, Clap, Boom Clap
This is Dodger Music, this the new blue hat
This the bulletproof coupe with the moon roof back
With the deuce deuce strap, this is new school crack
Boom Boom Clap, Clap, Boom Clap
Make way for young boss, dude move back
Cause dude pack enough heat to remove dudes shaqs
Keep his quarters and jimmy choo shoes now who's back
Dynasty for life, y'all know what's good
Middle finger's how we throw up our hood
Bone crushers ready, eatin wimps for dinner
Them boys is blood suckers like a ten percenta
Man Crooked bomb first boy, please do not diss
Nine years later, I'm still on some pac ish
Got my own label, let's pop cris
I'm feelin like Dre at the Vibe Awards, can't nobody stop this
[Chorus]
Yeah, I'm two steppin with your freak yo
We in the club twenty deep yo
Everybody on the streets know
Beef wit us homie my heat go
Boom Boom Clap, Clap Boom Clap
Beef wit us homie my heat go
Boom Boom Clap, Clap Boom Clap
Everybody on the streets know
[Hook]
Yeah, Pay your rent girl
Drop down to the ground
Pay your rent girl
Do the freak to the beat
Pay your rent girl
Lapdance that man
Pay your rent girl
[Verse 2]
Yeah, Long Beach got nothing to hide
East side, 5-6-2 I say it with pride
Chicks see the C-N-S and they get inside
I used my cars to get broads, I pimp my ride
Nicca, black mercedes packed with ladies
Half they crazy, asses is askin to have my baby
Rappers lately acting shady
Have me clap three eightys
You backwards cats amaze me
Nope, I don't feel you fags
Money in the safe but I gotta fill new bags
I don't feel too bad, got beef holla
I'll put money on your head like a dollar bill doorag
[Chorus]
[Intro]
[Verse 3]
Yeah, I don't need no ex, still getting more sex
Get it then I let the Horseshoe Gang go next
Still sippin moet, still hittin your ex
Still got diamonds in my Bill Clinton rolex
How you livin? Is that really your crib?
I got rich, never sat on Rap City with Tig
Absolutely you dig, I'll mack milli your wig
I'm black william bonnie, that's Billy The Kid
I keep clips like them virginia boys
First you get money man then you store
I'm waiting for a bad chick to walk in the door
With a body like Kenya Moore, I get in ya more
[Chorus]
Yea this is for gangsta's only
The dance floor's packed and them thangs is on me
These cats wanna hate cause they dangers on me
We strapped in the club, so it's dangerous homie
[Verse 1]
Boom Boom Clap, Clap, Boom Clap
This is Dodger Music, this the new blue hat
This the bulletproof coupe with the moon roof back
With the deuce deuce strap, this is new school crack
Boom Boom Clap, Clap, Boom Clap
Make way for young boss, dude move back
Cause dude pack enough heat to remove dudes shaqs
Keep his quarters and jimmy choo shoes now who's back
Dynasty for life, y'all know what's good
Middle finger's how we throw up our hood
Bone crushers ready, eatin wimps for dinner
Them boys is blood suckers like a ten percenta
Man Crooked bomb first boy, please do not diss
Nine years later, I'm still on some pac ish
Got my own label, let's pop cris
I'm feelin like Dre at the Vibe Awards, can't nobody stop this
[Chorus]
Yeah, I'm two steppin with your freak yo
We in the club twenty deep yo
Everybody on the streets know
Beef wit us homie my heat go
Boom Boom Clap, Clap Boom Clap
Beef wit us homie my heat go
Boom Boom Clap, Clap Boom Clap
Everybody on the streets know
[Hook]
Yeah, Pay your rent girl
Drop down to the ground
Pay your rent girl
Do the freak to the beat
Pay your rent girl
Lapdance that man
Pay your rent girl
[Verse 2]
Yeah, Long Beach got nothing to hide
East side, 5-6-2 I say it with pride
Chicks see the C-N-S and they get inside
I used my cars to get broads, I pimp my ride
Nicca, black mercedes packed with ladies
Half they crazy, asses is askin to have my baby
Rappers lately acting shady
Have me clap three eightys
You backwards cats amaze me
Nope, I don't feel you fags
Money in the safe but I gotta fill new bags
I don't feel too bad, got beef holla
I'll put money on your head like a dollar bill doorag
[Chorus]
[Intro]
[Verse 3]
Yeah, I don't need no ex, still getting more sex
Get it then I let the Horseshoe Gang go next
Still sippin moet, still hittin your ex
Still got diamonds in my Bill Clinton rolex
How you livin? Is that really your crib?
I got rich, never sat on Rap City with Tig
Absolutely you dig, I'll mack milli your wig
I'm black william bonnie, that's Billy The Kid
I keep clips like them virginia boys
First you get money man then you store
I'm waiting for a bad chick to walk in the door
With a body like Kenya Moore, I get in ya more
[Chorus]
All I Ever Wanted lyrics - Crooked I
Fuck Being The King, I'm The Boss of The West
(All I ever wanted) All I ever wanted
(Was the freedom to refuse) Was My freedom
(Of something of my own to love enough) I love this game man
(You hate to lose) I can't lose
(Feel it in my brain) It's crazy man
(It's leaving smoke behind my eyes) I hate to talk about these suckers
(When a part of me that wants to change) I want to change
(Fights the part of me that tries) But I gotta talk about you lames
Peep Game (Yea)
Knock, Knock here we go again, It's Crooked I homie let me in
Fuck 5 mics give me ten, I'm rembrant with an ink pen
A lot of Niggaz represent the West, Sittin on the throne is the quest
I don't give a Fuck who the best, Even though I'm better than the rest
What I just said is so real, We can bet a set of chrome wheels
If gettin' dough was based on skills, Niggaz couldn't pay they phone bill
Rap Game, Damn shame, Fuck it ima pop champagne
Keep a cuban hangin out my mouth, I know you seen the ad campaign
Tell the truth, Y'all Niggaz Lame, Not the kind of lame with a cane
Kind of Nigga lame in the brain, that's why I'm changing the game
Gang Bangin' was in eighty-nine, Now we on some organized crime
Hip-Hop Cops on the grind nevermind them last couple lines
Close homboys might switch, Best friend put you in a ditch
Fuck a snitch, Fuck a Bitch I just wanna see my Niggaz rich
[?] and ya life, a couple drop tops and a wife
Fuck gettin' shot in a fight, Gotta keep a glock in ya sight
That's the way it is in the streets, Niggaz never wanna see you good
That's coach leather on the seats, That's cherry grain on the wood
Yea, But We giving back to the hood
Gotta give back to the hood
You know? Somebody gotta do it
Cuz you suckers ain't come back in a long time man
Every time you come through here, fifty thousand police withchu
Cant even walk around your own people
And then you wanna block me from getting in the game
You Niggaz lame
Try not to talk about you suckers
But I can't change... I got to...
Yea, Yea Nigga What now? Years later still in the game
Underground for a long while, 100 carats still in the chain
Cuz the flow's ill, and he's so real and his hoes feeling his pain
Doing dope dealings and show skrill or we don't steal and entertain
Everything I do is legit, Putting off my shit
You can search a Niggatill he's sick, Yea, Cop eat a fat dick
Rappers slug gettin mailed, can't put a boomerang in jail
Throw me in imma come back out, Why Nigga, I post bail
Then it's right back on the block, with a baby mac and a glock
When you're trapped and you need to hear real rap and what happened to Pac
These Niggaz rappin is gay, I don't care what mad Niggaz say, Chris told
yall, you was wick-wick-wack way back in the day
I kick back with a six-pack, then a Nigga gotta laugh at the way, You kick
raps cuz the simple fact, come at me and you'll ask for the pay
Crooked I or Young Boss, Y'all know my motherfucking name
Wont stop till I'm on top, hottest young Nigga in the game
C dot , O dot, P dot We Hot squeeze glocks, three shots, leave a Nigga on
the street top Beeyotch
(All I ever wanted) Yea
(Was the freedom to refuse) All I ever wanted was my freedom
(Of something of my own to love enough) And now I got something that I love
(You hate to lose) I love this game man
(Feel it in my brain) I can't lose, I won't lose
(It's leaving smoke behind my eyes) Listen
(When a part of me that wants to change) C.O.B.
(Fights the part of me that tries)
(All I ever wanted) All I ever wanted
(Was the freedom to refuse) Was My freedom
(Of something of my own to love enough) I love this game man
(You hate to lose) I can't lose
(Feel it in my brain) It's crazy man
(It's leaving smoke behind my eyes) I hate to talk about these suckers
(When a part of me that wants to change) I want to change
(Fights the part of me that tries) But I gotta talk about you lames
Peep Game (Yea)
Knock, Knock here we go again, It's Crooked I homie let me in
Fuck 5 mics give me ten, I'm rembrant with an ink pen
A lot of Niggaz represent the West, Sittin on the throne is the quest
I don't give a Fuck who the best, Even though I'm better than the rest
What I just said is so real, We can bet a set of chrome wheels
If gettin' dough was based on skills, Niggaz couldn't pay they phone bill
Rap Game, Damn shame, Fuck it ima pop champagne
Keep a cuban hangin out my mouth, I know you seen the ad campaign
Tell the truth, Y'all Niggaz Lame, Not the kind of lame with a cane
Kind of Nigga lame in the brain, that's why I'm changing the game
Gang Bangin' was in eighty-nine, Now we on some organized crime
Hip-Hop Cops on the grind nevermind them last couple lines
Close homboys might switch, Best friend put you in a ditch
Fuck a snitch, Fuck a Bitch I just wanna see my Niggaz rich
[?] and ya life, a couple drop tops and a wife
Fuck gettin' shot in a fight, Gotta keep a glock in ya sight
That's the way it is in the streets, Niggaz never wanna see you good
That's coach leather on the seats, That's cherry grain on the wood
Yea, But We giving back to the hood
Gotta give back to the hood
You know? Somebody gotta do it
Cuz you suckers ain't come back in a long time man
Every time you come through here, fifty thousand police withchu
Cant even walk around your own people
And then you wanna block me from getting in the game
You Niggaz lame
Try not to talk about you suckers
But I can't change... I got to...
Yea, Yea Nigga What now? Years later still in the game
Underground for a long while, 100 carats still in the chain
Cuz the flow's ill, and he's so real and his hoes feeling his pain
Doing dope dealings and show skrill or we don't steal and entertain
Everything I do is legit, Putting off my shit
You can search a Niggatill he's sick, Yea, Cop eat a fat dick
Rappers slug gettin mailed, can't put a boomerang in jail
Throw me in imma come back out, Why Nigga, I post bail
Then it's right back on the block, with a baby mac and a glock
When you're trapped and you need to hear real rap and what happened to Pac
These Niggaz rappin is gay, I don't care what mad Niggaz say, Chris told
yall, you was wick-wick-wack way back in the day
I kick back with a six-pack, then a Nigga gotta laugh at the way, You kick
raps cuz the simple fact, come at me and you'll ask for the pay
Crooked I or Young Boss, Y'all know my motherfucking name
Wont stop till I'm on top, hottest young Nigga in the game
C dot , O dot, P dot We Hot squeeze glocks, three shots, leave a Nigga on
the street top Beeyotch
(All I ever wanted) Yea
(Was the freedom to refuse) All I ever wanted was my freedom
(Of something of my own to love enough) And now I got something that I love
(You hate to lose) I love this game man
(Feel it in my brain) I can't lose, I won't lose
(It's leaving smoke behind my eyes) Listen
(When a part of me that wants to change) C.O.B.
(Fights the part of me that tries)
The Kite lyrics - Crooked I
[Intro:]
Yeah, this is a kite goin' to all my homeboys
locked up in the penitentiary federal and state
We ain't forgot about you, my life long wish
is for all my real niggaz to feel me
Yeah, ya know, I gotta put it on the streets man
That's what I live and die for - the streets, yeah ..
[Verse 1:]
Out on them streets I put my life on the line
Between these sheets I put my life in them lines
Crooked reciting these rhymes
Givin' sight to the blind
In the dark my recital will shine light in ya mind
Like God cipher divine
I'm a fight for my kind
Nigga, surviving the grind
With a sniper designed, rifle aligned right for ya mind
I target a man
I was thuggin' before I became a marketing plan
Cover my heart with my hand, and vow
To keep it real, can't [?] ya [?]
Target the hearts of the fan, like the archer is part of the plan
Man, my loved ones who restin' in peace
They couldn't peak at the peak I was destined to reach
Through expressing a speech
I'm the essence of each O.G. before me
They gave me lessons to teach
I'm Pablo, you can't measure the reach
A cop-ho, fuck gestapo, arrest the police
Death to the beast
A renegade menace, niggaz witness the birth
Every listener's a prisoner, til I finish the verse
Every minute I'm spittin, you sittin' in a ministers church
You niggaz is bitches, I'm militant, I'm liftin' ya skirt
Society's prejudice, fuck it, all hope is lost
To piss 'em off, I do what you call "over-floss"
That's the reason the Benz got all chrome exhaust
They hate a ghetto nigga, cigar-smokin' boss
I'm crazy! Put me on a therapist couch
I've seen stomach shots leave a nigga wearin' a pouch
I've seen people's parents parish for careless amounts
So what's the starin' and the swearin' about?
This unfair character 'll stick his derringer square in ya arrogant mouth
I'm darin' ya, coz you apparently doubt
That I will merrily bury ya, without care when the sheriffs is out
And go that devout terrorist route
You box, I shoot glocks, we just don't compare in a bout
A shot caller
I'm airin' you out
A boss baller
Crooked I, you know I'm wearing Cartier in a drought
We live from ghetto America's house
Where the police get a paid vacation for kickin' niggaz ass
So 3rd strikers see the cop and let the trigger blast
There's so much pain in a nigga's past
We finna eat til we sick of cash
Me and my killaz finna mash for real, til we open them doors
It's young boss, sincerely yours! (sincerely yours)
[Hook:]
P.S. - Real niggaz know they gotta grind
B.S. - Bullshit will get you left behind
E.S. - East Side ride everytime
P.S. - Real niggaz know they gotta grind
[Outro:]
Yeah, it's a kite goin' to all my homeboys in the penitentiary
I ain't forgot about you
Yeah, revolutionary - yeah ... but gangsta
The federal crime bill is full of pages to keep us in cages
The government got a plan for you niggaz, you better keep your eyes open
yeah, ya know
I see you rappers on TV, you grease monkeys
You mothafuckers greased up with all them tattoos and ya shirt off
You point a gun at me, but not a C.O. - P
Yeah, you soft as cotton
East Side Long Beach - we revolutionary
We revolutionary... but gangsta
Yeah, this is a kite goin' to all my homeboys
locked up in the penitentiary federal and state
We ain't forgot about you, my life long wish
is for all my real niggaz to feel me
Yeah, ya know, I gotta put it on the streets man
That's what I live and die for - the streets, yeah ..
[Verse 1:]
Out on them streets I put my life on the line
Between these sheets I put my life in them lines
Crooked reciting these rhymes
Givin' sight to the blind
In the dark my recital will shine light in ya mind
Like God cipher divine
I'm a fight for my kind
Nigga, surviving the grind
With a sniper designed, rifle aligned right for ya mind
I target a man
I was thuggin' before I became a marketing plan
Cover my heart with my hand, and vow
To keep it real, can't [?] ya [?]
Target the hearts of the fan, like the archer is part of the plan
Man, my loved ones who restin' in peace
They couldn't peak at the peak I was destined to reach
Through expressing a speech
I'm the essence of each O.G. before me
They gave me lessons to teach
I'm Pablo, you can't measure the reach
A cop-ho, fuck gestapo, arrest the police
Death to the beast
A renegade menace, niggaz witness the birth
Every listener's a prisoner, til I finish the verse
Every minute I'm spittin, you sittin' in a ministers church
You niggaz is bitches, I'm militant, I'm liftin' ya skirt
Society's prejudice, fuck it, all hope is lost
To piss 'em off, I do what you call "over-floss"
That's the reason the Benz got all chrome exhaust
They hate a ghetto nigga, cigar-smokin' boss
I'm crazy! Put me on a therapist couch
I've seen stomach shots leave a nigga wearin' a pouch
I've seen people's parents parish for careless amounts
So what's the starin' and the swearin' about?
This unfair character 'll stick his derringer square in ya arrogant mouth
I'm darin' ya, coz you apparently doubt
That I will merrily bury ya, without care when the sheriffs is out
And go that devout terrorist route
You box, I shoot glocks, we just don't compare in a bout
A shot caller
I'm airin' you out
A boss baller
Crooked I, you know I'm wearing Cartier in a drought
We live from ghetto America's house
Where the police get a paid vacation for kickin' niggaz ass
So 3rd strikers see the cop and let the trigger blast
There's so much pain in a nigga's past
We finna eat til we sick of cash
Me and my killaz finna mash for real, til we open them doors
It's young boss, sincerely yours! (sincerely yours)
[Hook:]
P.S. - Real niggaz know they gotta grind
B.S. - Bullshit will get you left behind
E.S. - East Side ride everytime
P.S. - Real niggaz know they gotta grind
[Outro:]
Yeah, it's a kite goin' to all my homeboys in the penitentiary
I ain't forgot about you
Yeah, revolutionary - yeah ... but gangsta
The federal crime bill is full of pages to keep us in cages
The government got a plan for you niggaz, you better keep your eyes open
yeah, ya know
I see you rappers on TV, you grease monkeys
You mothafuckers greased up with all them tattoos and ya shirt off
You point a gun at me, but not a C.O. - P
Yeah, you soft as cotton
East Side Long Beach - we revolutionary
We revolutionary... but gangsta
Auplelia (Auphelia Payne) lyrics - Crooked I (feat. Sheena)
This one's dedicated to my home girl, Auphelia Payne
She was a ghetto little girl who became a young woman
Didn't have no kids, didn't plan on one coming
And niggaz who wasn't bout shit, she'd run from em
From a welfare family, look how the slums done em
Daddy was an alcoholic so her mama dissed him
Her gang banging brother was a homicide victim
One of her other younger brothers locked by the system
She sent him letters, couldn't describe how she missed him
Told him jobs in the hood ain't plenty
So I'm part-timing it at Denny's
But she didn't tell him at night she's strip club waitress serving Henny
Rocking lace stockings and a mini
Customers ask if they could buy sexual favors
Even the women want bisexual favors
But she don't get down like that and so they label her a hater
Go on, baby, tell them what you're made of
You don't know what to do, you gotta make it through
I feel your pain
You gotta keep on fighting and you will get to the better days
I feel your pain
Keep pushing, you'll be fine, don't give in, you'll be alright
I feel your pain
Now she wanna go to school so she enrolled in night classes
Told her friends about it but they acted like asses
They don't know we can't let this life pass us
Jet black hair, shaded eye glasses
Standing on the bus stop like a poster of dignity
Even though niggaz push crack in that vicinity
You keep your identity
Rest in peace, big bro tatted on your left arm in beautiful caligraphy
It'll be a cold day in hell when you give up
You got a game plan to pull that european whip up
Get a interior decorator to fix your crib up
For being sick of the bullshit, I give you big ups
A lot of your homegirls, they ain't built the same
You tell them to get off they ass but they still remain
Lead by example though, kill the game
And one day they can build and change
I feel your pain
You don't know what to do, you gotta make it through
I feel your pain
You gotta keep on fighting and you will get to the better days
I feel your pain
Keep pushing, you'll be fine, don't give in, you'll be alright
I feel your pain
She was a ghetto little girl who became a young woman
And three years from now, she got a son coming
Today she in a 600, look at her stunting
While naysayers was fronting, she went and done something
Made it out of school, got two coupes to twirl
On the weekends she speaks at a youth group for girls
Teach them how to properly move through the world
Droppin jewels of wisdom if you choose the pearls
Got her own business and she's barely even 30
She said I prayed for strength and, baby, god heard me
Got accountants now, employees, and attorneys
Found a real nigga who appreciates her journey
Ain't gotta do it alone, got a loan
Moved mamma right out of the criminal zone
Got a front and back bone when little bro come home
Now she even got her own song
I feel your pain
You don't know what to do, you gotta make it through
I feel your pain
You gotta keep on fighting and you will get to the better days
I feel your pain
Keep pushing, you'll be fine, don't give in, you'll be alright
I feel your pain
Yeah, you know what I'm saying? This one goes out to my homegirl, Auphelia
Payne. You know sometimes we as men always focus on our own problems and we
ignore the problems that our women are going through. You know what I'm
saying? But if nobody else care about your everyday stuggle, you gotta know
that I do. Smile, baby girl, it's gonna be alright. We gonna make it through
the storm and watch the sunshine. I feel your pain
I feel your pain
I know your going through a thang
Everything will be okay
The sun shines after rain
Hey, I feel your pain
I know your going through a thang
Everything will be okay
The sun shines after rain
She was a ghetto little girl who became a young woman
Didn't have no kids, didn't plan on one coming
And niggaz who wasn't bout shit, she'd run from em
From a welfare family, look how the slums done em
Daddy was an alcoholic so her mama dissed him
Her gang banging brother was a homicide victim
One of her other younger brothers locked by the system
She sent him letters, couldn't describe how she missed him
Told him jobs in the hood ain't plenty
So I'm part-timing it at Denny's
But she didn't tell him at night she's strip club waitress serving Henny
Rocking lace stockings and a mini
Customers ask if they could buy sexual favors
Even the women want bisexual favors
But she don't get down like that and so they label her a hater
Go on, baby, tell them what you're made of
You don't know what to do, you gotta make it through
I feel your pain
You gotta keep on fighting and you will get to the better days
I feel your pain
Keep pushing, you'll be fine, don't give in, you'll be alright
I feel your pain
Now she wanna go to school so she enrolled in night classes
Told her friends about it but they acted like asses
They don't know we can't let this life pass us
Jet black hair, shaded eye glasses
Standing on the bus stop like a poster of dignity
Even though niggaz push crack in that vicinity
You keep your identity
Rest in peace, big bro tatted on your left arm in beautiful caligraphy
It'll be a cold day in hell when you give up
You got a game plan to pull that european whip up
Get a interior decorator to fix your crib up
For being sick of the bullshit, I give you big ups
A lot of your homegirls, they ain't built the same
You tell them to get off they ass but they still remain
Lead by example though, kill the game
And one day they can build and change
I feel your pain
You don't know what to do, you gotta make it through
I feel your pain
You gotta keep on fighting and you will get to the better days
I feel your pain
Keep pushing, you'll be fine, don't give in, you'll be alright
I feel your pain
She was a ghetto little girl who became a young woman
And three years from now, she got a son coming
Today she in a 600, look at her stunting
While naysayers was fronting, she went and done something
Made it out of school, got two coupes to twirl
On the weekends she speaks at a youth group for girls
Teach them how to properly move through the world
Droppin jewels of wisdom if you choose the pearls
Got her own business and she's barely even 30
She said I prayed for strength and, baby, god heard me
Got accountants now, employees, and attorneys
Found a real nigga who appreciates her journey
Ain't gotta do it alone, got a loan
Moved mamma right out of the criminal zone
Got a front and back bone when little bro come home
Now she even got her own song
I feel your pain
You don't know what to do, you gotta make it through
I feel your pain
You gotta keep on fighting and you will get to the better days
I feel your pain
Keep pushing, you'll be fine, don't give in, you'll be alright
I feel your pain
Yeah, you know what I'm saying? This one goes out to my homegirl, Auphelia
Payne. You know sometimes we as men always focus on our own problems and we
ignore the problems that our women are going through. You know what I'm
saying? But if nobody else care about your everyday stuggle, you gotta know
that I do. Smile, baby girl, it's gonna be alright. We gonna make it through
the storm and watch the sunshine. I feel your pain
I feel your pain
I know your going through a thang
Everything will be okay
The sun shines after rain
Hey, I feel your pain
I know your going through a thang
Everything will be okay
The sun shines after rain
You Need A Blessin lyrics - Crooked I (feat. Jim Gittum)
[Intro: background]
..the will to cary on
On with the show
On with the show!
ohhh Show Must Go On
[Crooked I: talking]
Yeah
the show must go on
we all been through up and dows in out lifes (yeah)
I've been through some, you been through some but we can't let it stop us
(can't stop)
life stumbling blocks can't do nothing with us man (nothing)
we gotta keep moving with an iron will (gotta keep moving)
heart of a lion (yeah shit is real man) (this is real nigga)
I know you stressing (me too my nigga)
but we can make it (we got a problem) (gotta make it)
Chea! (Yeah)
Yeah
[Verse 1: Crooked I]
Even as a youg kid I had a Boss demeanor
problably see me in the drop givin' a cop the finger
My girlfriend is a rachet I cock the nina
she serving niggaz for the raquet but she's not Serena
Niggaz wanna run infront my car pop the beamer
wet of water I ain't talking Aquafina
so I kick spiritual lyrics in God's arena
start pouring my heart out more than a gospel singer
My whole life never felt fair
"Fuck my dead beat father" is what a yelled as a kid living on welfare
no healthcare we walking down hell stairs
Hell Yeah! I looked for help else where
all I had was a 9milli and one gage
plus Rage
I dropped out at a young age
Fuck Grades
My mission to become paid even if one day they put my face on the front page
now I beef and squa, sleep with raw
thief and rob the streets to beat the odds
My homie slit both of his wrists
he said he wanted to meet with God
cause he couldn't keep a descent job
I seen it as a true lesson
you can't afford to step outside of your mind, for 2 seconds
if so, you choose weapons, shoot yourself with this Smith & Wesson untill
you're through stressing, DAMN!!!
[Chorus: Crooked I]
I know you stressing homey
You need blessing homey
I've been there before
Life is hard, I know (I know)
Face your depression homey
It ain't a question homey
We can fight and survive the odds fo sho! (we can fight)
I know you stressing homey
You need blessing homey (yeah)
I've been there before
Life is hard, I know (I know)
Face your depression homey (face it)
It ain't a question homey (it ain't one)
We can fight and survive the odds fo sho!
[Verse 2: Jim Gittum]
now when times get hard
sometimes they get harder
she should of been, could of been, baby moms supporting my daughter
while I was out wild n out trying to be Shawn Carter
should of been working a 9 to 5 trying to be a father
I was only 18 trying to chase this dream
rebellious little nigga mesmerized by the Bling
then I had a spirit encounter with the King of kings
and he told me "Jim Gittum go and do your thing"
now I understand what vision and focus mean
prioritized lay my ties and now I get green
I ain't trying to be extreme and say that life is perfect
I'm just trying to say walk by faith and life would be worth it
Gotta think more optimistic and control your thoughts
Gotta think more postivite before you talk
It's true you gotta learn to crawl right before you walk
but after you learn to walk you run to be number one!
[Chorus]
..the will to cary on
On with the show
On with the show!
ohhh Show Must Go On
[Crooked I: talking]
Yeah
the show must go on
we all been through up and dows in out lifes (yeah)
I've been through some, you been through some but we can't let it stop us
(can't stop)
life stumbling blocks can't do nothing with us man (nothing)
we gotta keep moving with an iron will (gotta keep moving)
heart of a lion (yeah shit is real man) (this is real nigga)
I know you stressing (me too my nigga)
but we can make it (we got a problem) (gotta make it)
Chea! (Yeah)
Yeah
[Verse 1: Crooked I]
Even as a youg kid I had a Boss demeanor
problably see me in the drop givin' a cop the finger
My girlfriend is a rachet I cock the nina
she serving niggaz for the raquet but she's not Serena
Niggaz wanna run infront my car pop the beamer
wet of water I ain't talking Aquafina
so I kick spiritual lyrics in God's arena
start pouring my heart out more than a gospel singer
My whole life never felt fair
"Fuck my dead beat father" is what a yelled as a kid living on welfare
no healthcare we walking down hell stairs
Hell Yeah! I looked for help else where
all I had was a 9milli and one gage
plus Rage
I dropped out at a young age
Fuck Grades
My mission to become paid even if one day they put my face on the front page
now I beef and squa, sleep with raw
thief and rob the streets to beat the odds
My homie slit both of his wrists
he said he wanted to meet with God
cause he couldn't keep a descent job
I seen it as a true lesson
you can't afford to step outside of your mind, for 2 seconds
if so, you choose weapons, shoot yourself with this Smith & Wesson untill
you're through stressing, DAMN!!!
[Chorus: Crooked I]
I know you stressing homey
You need blessing homey
I've been there before
Life is hard, I know (I know)
Face your depression homey
It ain't a question homey
We can fight and survive the odds fo sho! (we can fight)
I know you stressing homey
You need blessing homey (yeah)
I've been there before
Life is hard, I know (I know)
Face your depression homey (face it)
It ain't a question homey (it ain't one)
We can fight and survive the odds fo sho!
[Verse 2: Jim Gittum]
now when times get hard
sometimes they get harder
she should of been, could of been, baby moms supporting my daughter
while I was out wild n out trying to be Shawn Carter
should of been working a 9 to 5 trying to be a father
I was only 18 trying to chase this dream
rebellious little nigga mesmerized by the Bling
then I had a spirit encounter with the King of kings
and he told me "Jim Gittum go and do your thing"
now I understand what vision and focus mean
prioritized lay my ties and now I get green
I ain't trying to be extreme and say that life is perfect
I'm just trying to say walk by faith and life would be worth it
Gotta think more optimistic and control your thoughts
Gotta think more postivite before you talk
It's true you gotta learn to crawl right before you walk
but after you learn to walk you run to be number one!
[Chorus]
Rap 101 lyrics - Crooked I
Homie, don't bother this fatherless child
Niggaz wit problems get shot in the eusophagus, set off the apocolypse now
the projectiles choppin' you down
cock it and blaaw
robbin' you for every profit in ya pocket and smile
My cannon dismantle you, let it off like roman candles
point two nines at you with bandana's on the handles
blast through ya flannels
we just Sopranos smashin' in astro vans with ammo stashed in the panels
we animals when it's drama
move like mechanical anaconda's, we hannibals, cannibals, and piranha's
the last nigga with info that hand over the fed's
the homie's jumped in the hummer, ran over his head
hand over your bread
we snatch you out your land rover, choke ya
smoke ya while we stand over your bed
just to let ya know, this is westcoasonostra
ever since Pac passed you thought the westcoast was over
but look closer and you're liable to find
My homicidal recitals' the kind that inspires a guy to rewind
king of survival, the title is mine
I write for ya spine and stifle ya mind with a cycle of triflin' rhymes
It ain't a gangsta that us hustlaz won't reach
we bust just to touch the cold streets
you bustas won't cease
and that's why my next tattoo will say "no justice, no peace..."
plus "fuck the police"
(yeah.. that's how we do this shit... Rap 101)
(yeah, get your bars up)
(your metaphors and similies ain't right)
(ya know what I'm talkin' about?)
(you old niggaz, just keep a fresh swagger)
(you new niggaz, learn your history in this hip-hop culture and you'll be alright)
(this is the art of MC'ing.. this is Rap 101)
(listen and learn..)
Nigga, I wish you would speak on my label
I'll walk in your house, put my feet on your table, see what's on cable
soon as you speak, shots leave you leakin' from navel
rock you to sleep in a cradle, you geeks weak and unable
we can disable haters from Tennessee to Diego
Long Beach to Vallejo
law low, a yo, we givin' niggaz wings and a halo
squeezin' them thangs so easily without seein' a reason to say no
they ask, "why ya by yourself?"
cuz I walked into the firearm store, tried to buy the entire shelf
to jackers out to acquire wealth
I fire shells, while ya yell, I serve ya like the hired help
My science are sins, my mind tire within
the bad guy wins like the giant got goliath's revenge
puttin' 5 in ya benz, tie up ya wife in it then
quiet your friends with gunfire as maniacal rhyme sire begins to strike like
a viper and snipe ya again
you can recite what'cha like but ya fight for ya life cuz the "I" can ignite
the mic and he's slightly tighter than you when he write with the pen
who's rivalin' him?
(It's Rap 101)
(teachin' you the art of MC'ing)
(I hope you all takin' notes out there, ya know)
(or I'm a flunk you dumb asses)
(yeah, get them metaphors up)
(get your patterns and rhyme schemes together)
(how you gonna let my timin' be better than your rhymin'?)
(It's Rap 101)
(to all you A&R's out there...)
(if it don't sound like this, it don't like shit...)
(yeah, it's Rap 101...)
Niggaz wit problems get shot in the eusophagus, set off the apocolypse now
the projectiles choppin' you down
cock it and blaaw
robbin' you for every profit in ya pocket and smile
My cannon dismantle you, let it off like roman candles
point two nines at you with bandana's on the handles
blast through ya flannels
we just Sopranos smashin' in astro vans with ammo stashed in the panels
we animals when it's drama
move like mechanical anaconda's, we hannibals, cannibals, and piranha's
the last nigga with info that hand over the fed's
the homie's jumped in the hummer, ran over his head
hand over your bread
we snatch you out your land rover, choke ya
smoke ya while we stand over your bed
just to let ya know, this is westcoasonostra
ever since Pac passed you thought the westcoast was over
but look closer and you're liable to find
My homicidal recitals' the kind that inspires a guy to rewind
king of survival, the title is mine
I write for ya spine and stifle ya mind with a cycle of triflin' rhymes
It ain't a gangsta that us hustlaz won't reach
we bust just to touch the cold streets
you bustas won't cease
and that's why my next tattoo will say "no justice, no peace..."
plus "fuck the police"
(yeah.. that's how we do this shit... Rap 101)
(yeah, get your bars up)
(your metaphors and similies ain't right)
(ya know what I'm talkin' about?)
(you old niggaz, just keep a fresh swagger)
(you new niggaz, learn your history in this hip-hop culture and you'll be alright)
(this is the art of MC'ing.. this is Rap 101)
(listen and learn..)
Nigga, I wish you would speak on my label
I'll walk in your house, put my feet on your table, see what's on cable
soon as you speak, shots leave you leakin' from navel
rock you to sleep in a cradle, you geeks weak and unable
we can disable haters from Tennessee to Diego
Long Beach to Vallejo
law low, a yo, we givin' niggaz wings and a halo
squeezin' them thangs so easily without seein' a reason to say no
they ask, "why ya by yourself?"
cuz I walked into the firearm store, tried to buy the entire shelf
to jackers out to acquire wealth
I fire shells, while ya yell, I serve ya like the hired help
My science are sins, my mind tire within
the bad guy wins like the giant got goliath's revenge
puttin' 5 in ya benz, tie up ya wife in it then
quiet your friends with gunfire as maniacal rhyme sire begins to strike like
a viper and snipe ya again
you can recite what'cha like but ya fight for ya life cuz the "I" can ignite
the mic and he's slightly tighter than you when he write with the pen
who's rivalin' him?
(It's Rap 101)
(teachin' you the art of MC'ing)
(I hope you all takin' notes out there, ya know)
(or I'm a flunk you dumb asses)
(yeah, get them metaphors up)
(get your patterns and rhyme schemes together)
(how you gonna let my timin' be better than your rhymin'?)
(It's Rap 101)
(to all you A&R's out there...)
(if it don't sound like this, it don't like shit...)
(yeah, it's Rap 101...)
Black Superman (Freestyle) lyrics - Crooked I
[Intro:]
East Side Long Beach, Blap Blap... Cob, Circle Of Boss;S
Its Your Boy Crooked, Lets Do It To Em...
[Verse 1:]
They Call Me Black Superman
Black Rouger Man
Fast Shootin Hand
Clap Your Brand New Sedan
I'm Raps Luther Van
Got Hoes Throwin Panties
Watch The Flow Blow As If I Rap Thru A Fan, Man
Everybody Knows From Sets Vargos To Varios
That Chrome Shotty Give Your Body Holes
And I Body Hoes
Last Chick They Tried To Set Me Up
I Squoze The Tommy, Mami Adios
I'm A Gangsta
Vest And A Chain
Ain't No Questions Wether
I'm Destined To Reign
Wont Rest Till I'm The Best In The Game
Me And Kanye Got Somethin In Common
You Have To Attach The West To The Name Crooked
Give Me Mine Or I'm Gonna Squab With Critics
I Never Rock Without My Dodger Fitted
Me And Dj Skee In A Level 3 Benz Brabus Kitted
I'm A Boss, Who Got A Problem With It
I Live It So I Can Spit It
Poetic Picture, Oscar Vivid
So When You That Boxter Dippin,
You Know That A Mobsters In It..
Wait A Minute, I'm Above The Law
I Ain't A Painter, But I Love To Draw
Can I Thug Wid Yall..
Ughh
Yea, Yea
I'm Black Superman
Blap Blap Cob, Circle Of Boss;S
[Verse 2:]
Yeah Nigga...
From This Industry Long Beach Wont Leave
Even If I Gotta Stick A Chrome Piece To Ya Dome Piece, Don't Breathh..
They Cold Slugs From Some Og's
We So Thug In The Pro Cuts With The Long Sleeves
Niggaz That Raised Me, They Sold Keys
Some Of 'em Spinnin Small Face Hundreds, The Same Colour As Old Cheese
I Wont Squueze, Hoe Please
I'm So Cold When I Breeth Its A 20 Below (De)Grees
Don't Fist Fight Another Round
Big Pipes Sit Right Under My Pin Stripe Button Down
Sit Tight Not Another Sound
I Egnite Another Round
Quick Like Lightening
Put Your Click Right Underground
I Hear You Sayin Some Shit
But It Ain't True
You Niggaz Gang Banging
Claimin A Gang That Don't Even Clame You
I Still Do What You Cant Do, Cob, Circle Of Boss;S
We Ain't Thru Nigga
Yeah Nigga Yo All Know What It Is,Dynasty Cob, Circle Of Bosses Nigga
Crip Or Blood, Cash Over Bithces, Yeah Nigga What
Yo Skee, Lets Do Business Man
East Side Long Beach, Blap Blap... Cob, Circle Of Boss;S
Its Your Boy Crooked, Lets Do It To Em...
[Verse 1:]
They Call Me Black Superman
Black Rouger Man
Fast Shootin Hand
Clap Your Brand New Sedan
I'm Raps Luther Van
Got Hoes Throwin Panties
Watch The Flow Blow As If I Rap Thru A Fan, Man
Everybody Knows From Sets Vargos To Varios
That Chrome Shotty Give Your Body Holes
And I Body Hoes
Last Chick They Tried To Set Me Up
I Squoze The Tommy, Mami Adios
I'm A Gangsta
Vest And A Chain
Ain't No Questions Wether
I'm Destined To Reign
Wont Rest Till I'm The Best In The Game
Me And Kanye Got Somethin In Common
You Have To Attach The West To The Name Crooked
Give Me Mine Or I'm Gonna Squab With Critics
I Never Rock Without My Dodger Fitted
Me And Dj Skee In A Level 3 Benz Brabus Kitted
I'm A Boss, Who Got A Problem With It
I Live It So I Can Spit It
Poetic Picture, Oscar Vivid
So When You That Boxter Dippin,
You Know That A Mobsters In It..
Wait A Minute, I'm Above The Law
I Ain't A Painter, But I Love To Draw
Can I Thug Wid Yall..
Ughh
Yea, Yea
I'm Black Superman
Blap Blap Cob, Circle Of Boss;S
[Verse 2:]
Yeah Nigga...
From This Industry Long Beach Wont Leave
Even If I Gotta Stick A Chrome Piece To Ya Dome Piece, Don't Breathh..
They Cold Slugs From Some Og's
We So Thug In The Pro Cuts With The Long Sleeves
Niggaz That Raised Me, They Sold Keys
Some Of 'em Spinnin Small Face Hundreds, The Same Colour As Old Cheese
I Wont Squueze, Hoe Please
I'm So Cold When I Breeth Its A 20 Below (De)Grees
Don't Fist Fight Another Round
Big Pipes Sit Right Under My Pin Stripe Button Down
Sit Tight Not Another Sound
I Egnite Another Round
Quick Like Lightening
Put Your Click Right Underground
I Hear You Sayin Some Shit
But It Ain't True
You Niggaz Gang Banging
Claimin A Gang That Don't Even Clame You
I Still Do What You Cant Do, Cob, Circle Of Boss;S
We Ain't Thru Nigga
Yeah Nigga Yo All Know What It Is,Dynasty Cob, Circle Of Bosses Nigga
Crip Or Blood, Cash Over Bithces, Yeah Nigga What
Yo Skee, Lets Do Business Man
My Lowrider lyrics - Crooked I (feat. The Game, Paul Wall, WC, E-40, Chingy, Techniec, Lil' Rob & Ice Cube)
[Hook:]
Cherry '64 (my lowrider), hop in the low low (my my lowrider)
Chrome hydraulics, all-black Impala (my my lowrider, my my lowrider)
Three-wheelin' the '64 (my lowrider), hop in the low low (my my lowrider)
Chrome hydraulics, all-black Impala (my my lowrider, my my lowrider)
[Techniec:]
I see 'em tryna shine like Tech
'Cause I shine like I be grindin' on the set, d-d-diamonds on my neck
Most talked about when I hit that strip, watch it bounce when I hit that dip
Come too close, might get that clip, click bang
Don't trip, Tech don't slip, let's up the road, go get my bitch
Get my grip, talk my shit, hit my switch and dip
Switchin' lanes on them Dana-Danes, same color as that candy paint
Tangerine, wit' metal plates...
[E-40:]
I tried to tell you never sober, chalupa, longer than a roller coaster
Out here a hub a head a do-ya, for a quarter ounce of yola
Venomous snakes, like some cobras
Up top is where I'm from, we lettin' out nuts hang over our shoulders
Figure-8 and goin' dumb
Drivin' wit' all four doors open, gassin' and brakin' and yokin'
We hyphy, we stupid, Vallejo, Richmond, 'Frisco, Oakland
We 'Niners, we Raiders, we some hustlas and some playas
We got '64's and low-low's, but most of us ridin' scrapers
[Crooked I:]
Please Lord forgive me, it's in me to toke Semi's
Grope Penny and Remy, my pockets was so skinny
Now I blow pennies on four Hemi's
Run the whole city, hoes, I put dough before any
My 6th sense helped me view better cheddar kid
I fucks more hoes than Hugh Hefner ever did
That new leather shit, the coupe hella sick
Dude move ahead of whoever 'cause dude never quit
[Hook:]
Cherry '64 (my lowrider), hop in the low-low (my my lowrider)
Chrome hydraulics, all-black Impala (my my lowrider, my my lowrider)
Three-wheelin' the '64 (my lowrider), hop in the low-low (my my lowrider)
Chrome hydraulics, all-black Impala (my my lowrider, my my lowrider)
[Chingy:]
Cranberry Impala, that's my lowrider
Slide by ya, North sider, rider wit' a hoe driver
G'd up, from the feet up, plus the heat tough
Toe game, crack the Grey Goose, and spark the weed up
When I'm in L.A., I go in Crenshaw and floss a little
Slot a lot thang and them Black Wall Street
Double-U and P and C-P-T, we keepin' it G
In our lowriders, riders, riders
[Lil' Rob:]
We put them cracks up on the wall, cucarachas crawl
I keep my head up and it won't fall, no not at all
I'll break yo' jaw like I break the law, leave you all in all
And the ride is so clean, you won't know what you saw
I sit low with a tall can, in a brown bag
With a brown rag, bouncin' a brown rag
Wit' the Mexican flag and the American flag
Hittin' the fronts and the backs, watchin' out for the badge
[Paul Wall:]
Home boy, Big T, better known as Tyrone
Is the first person I ever seen wit' a Chevy on chrome
My partner got it, bought the slab, wine berry over gold
With screens in the head rests, just to let you know we holdin'
I fell in love wit' it, and I dropped off some cash
Now that's me you see, flippin' slab, ridin' on glass
How much it cost? Don't ask, baby just know this
I could've bout a Benz instead wit' the money I spent
[Hook:]
Cherry '64 (my lowrider), hop in the low-low (my my lowrider)
Chrome hydraulics, all-black Impala (my my lowrider, my my lowrider)
Three-wheelin' the '64 (my lowrider), hop in the low-low (my my lowrider)
Chrome hydraulics, all-black Impala (my my lowrider, my my lowrider)
[The Game:]
My '64 sittin' on that chrome, chrome glock sittin' on my lap
Three hoes ridin' in the back, candy paint, nigga fuck with that
Three-wheel motion I'm sittin' high, Daytona's that's all we ride
Hit that switch it's do or die, ride on me, that's suicide
I be in the hood smokin' that green, Dr. Dre know what I mean
Swisha Sweet and them purple leaves, California, we got that weed
Black diamonds off in my chain, ask around niggas know my name
Compton's own, the rap LeBron James, ridin' low, I'm switchin' lanes
[WC:]
Make that brain splat, 30 thang-thang clap
Known for the game rap, wit' the chrome frame wrap
From Harley-Davidson's to low-low's, we do tip 'em
13-hundred spokes wit' that blue nipple, get the picture
Disrespect, I'ma draw slugs
But ain't no set trippin' 'cause nigger it's all love
Dub-C drop the real on 'em, Chevy chrome grill on 'em
Posin' in the intersection, three-wheelin' on 'em nigga
[Ice Cube:]
Raspberry '64 bring your cherry, and
We can make a Sunday, come home Monday
I'm sittin' on the one-way, up on the boulevard
Act hard, put yo' thoughts on the dashboard
'Cause if I come through wit' the little homie
Nobody better fuck wit' the little homie
I hope Compton unite, South Central unite
I hope my chrome, dance wit' the moonlight
[Hook:]
Cherry '64 (my lowrider), hop in the low-low (my my lowrider)
Chrome hydraulics, all-black Impala (my my lowrider, my my lowrider)
Three-wheelin' the '64 (my lowrider), hop in the low-low (my my lowrider)
Chrome hydraulics, all-black Impala (my my lowrider, my my lowrider)
Cherry '64 (my lowrider), hop in the low low (my my lowrider)
Chrome hydraulics, all-black Impala (my my lowrider, my my lowrider)
Three-wheelin' the '64 (my lowrider), hop in the low low (my my lowrider)
Chrome hydraulics, all-black Impala (my my lowrider, my my lowrider)
[Techniec:]
I see 'em tryna shine like Tech
'Cause I shine like I be grindin' on the set, d-d-diamonds on my neck
Most talked about when I hit that strip, watch it bounce when I hit that dip
Come too close, might get that clip, click bang
Don't trip, Tech don't slip, let's up the road, go get my bitch
Get my grip, talk my shit, hit my switch and dip
Switchin' lanes on them Dana-Danes, same color as that candy paint
Tangerine, wit' metal plates...
[E-40:]
I tried to tell you never sober, chalupa, longer than a roller coaster
Out here a hub a head a do-ya, for a quarter ounce of yola
Venomous snakes, like some cobras
Up top is where I'm from, we lettin' out nuts hang over our shoulders
Figure-8 and goin' dumb
Drivin' wit' all four doors open, gassin' and brakin' and yokin'
We hyphy, we stupid, Vallejo, Richmond, 'Frisco, Oakland
We 'Niners, we Raiders, we some hustlas and some playas
We got '64's and low-low's, but most of us ridin' scrapers
[Crooked I:]
Please Lord forgive me, it's in me to toke Semi's
Grope Penny and Remy, my pockets was so skinny
Now I blow pennies on four Hemi's
Run the whole city, hoes, I put dough before any
My 6th sense helped me view better cheddar kid
I fucks more hoes than Hugh Hefner ever did
That new leather shit, the coupe hella sick
Dude move ahead of whoever 'cause dude never quit
[Hook:]
Cherry '64 (my lowrider), hop in the low-low (my my lowrider)
Chrome hydraulics, all-black Impala (my my lowrider, my my lowrider)
Three-wheelin' the '64 (my lowrider), hop in the low-low (my my lowrider)
Chrome hydraulics, all-black Impala (my my lowrider, my my lowrider)
[Chingy:]
Cranberry Impala, that's my lowrider
Slide by ya, North sider, rider wit' a hoe driver
G'd up, from the feet up, plus the heat tough
Toe game, crack the Grey Goose, and spark the weed up
When I'm in L.A., I go in Crenshaw and floss a little
Slot a lot thang and them Black Wall Street
Double-U and P and C-P-T, we keepin' it G
In our lowriders, riders, riders
[Lil' Rob:]
We put them cracks up on the wall, cucarachas crawl
I keep my head up and it won't fall, no not at all
I'll break yo' jaw like I break the law, leave you all in all
And the ride is so clean, you won't know what you saw
I sit low with a tall can, in a brown bag
With a brown rag, bouncin' a brown rag
Wit' the Mexican flag and the American flag
Hittin' the fronts and the backs, watchin' out for the badge
[Paul Wall:]
Home boy, Big T, better known as Tyrone
Is the first person I ever seen wit' a Chevy on chrome
My partner got it, bought the slab, wine berry over gold
With screens in the head rests, just to let you know we holdin'
I fell in love wit' it, and I dropped off some cash
Now that's me you see, flippin' slab, ridin' on glass
How much it cost? Don't ask, baby just know this
I could've bout a Benz instead wit' the money I spent
[Hook:]
Cherry '64 (my lowrider), hop in the low-low (my my lowrider)
Chrome hydraulics, all-black Impala (my my lowrider, my my lowrider)
Three-wheelin' the '64 (my lowrider), hop in the low-low (my my lowrider)
Chrome hydraulics, all-black Impala (my my lowrider, my my lowrider)
[The Game:]
My '64 sittin' on that chrome, chrome glock sittin' on my lap
Three hoes ridin' in the back, candy paint, nigga fuck with that
Three-wheel motion I'm sittin' high, Daytona's that's all we ride
Hit that switch it's do or die, ride on me, that's suicide
I be in the hood smokin' that green, Dr. Dre know what I mean
Swisha Sweet and them purple leaves, California, we got that weed
Black diamonds off in my chain, ask around niggas know my name
Compton's own, the rap LeBron James, ridin' low, I'm switchin' lanes
[WC:]
Make that brain splat, 30 thang-thang clap
Known for the game rap, wit' the chrome frame wrap
From Harley-Davidson's to low-low's, we do tip 'em
13-hundred spokes wit' that blue nipple, get the picture
Disrespect, I'ma draw slugs
But ain't no set trippin' 'cause nigger it's all love
Dub-C drop the real on 'em, Chevy chrome grill on 'em
Posin' in the intersection, three-wheelin' on 'em nigga
[Ice Cube:]
Raspberry '64 bring your cherry, and
We can make a Sunday, come home Monday
I'm sittin' on the one-way, up on the boulevard
Act hard, put yo' thoughts on the dashboard
'Cause if I come through wit' the little homie
Nobody better fuck wit' the little homie
I hope Compton unite, South Central unite
I hope my chrome, dance wit' the moonlight
[Hook:]
Cherry '64 (my lowrider), hop in the low-low (my my lowrider)
Chrome hydraulics, all-black Impala (my my lowrider, my my lowrider)
Three-wheelin' the '64 (my lowrider), hop in the low-low (my my lowrider)
Chrome hydraulics, all-black Impala (my my lowrider, my my lowrider)
Bitch Niggas '04 lyrics - Crooked I
You know what's mind bothering
Niggaz 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 motherfuckers, I see you over there
And I know you wanna fuck with me
I got my eyes on you suckers
But I don't really care
Cause I keep a burner tucked with me
Yeah, niggaz 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 niggaz
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 them beach houses, straight thuggin' in the south
With my nigga Humpty Hump, punchin' you suckers 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 motherfuckers, I see you over there
And I know you wanna fuck with me
I got my eyes on you suckers
But I don't really care
Cause I keep a burner tuck with me
Niggaz 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 motherfuckers, I see you over there
And I know you wanna fuck with me
I got my eyes on you suckers
But I don't really care
Cause I keep a burner tucked with me
Yeah, niggaz 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 niggaz
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 them beach houses, straight thuggin' in the south
With my nigga Humpty Hump, punchin' you suckers 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 motherfuckers, I see you over there
And I know you wanna fuck with me
I got my eyes on you suckers
But I don't really care
Cause I keep a burner tuck with me
It's More Than Music lyrics - Crooked I
Ahhaahhaaaaa
Whoa
Yeah Crooked
Lalalalala What Up?
It's you boy, yeah
Rollercoaster rims I see you
[?]
Where we at on this one?
Hold On...
Yeah, Crooked got ears like DJ Premier's
He came in here just to replace the queers
My heat waves for fear
My clique is so deep
We roll out cause traffic on the freeway for years
If we changing gears, getting' ghost on suckas
Paint a picture for the bread, draw toast on fuckas
Most won't touch us, both coasts love us
Me and my south niggaz cause grown folk ruckus
Man, mofuck 'em all
With this big glock
You can see a trick shot as if you was in Rocker Park
I'm a thug in the heart
Drama on my momma, niggaz love when it start
Damn slugs in the spar
Just do your dog with a chopper after gasoline vodka
The condition we leave you in is gonna puzzle the doctors
My hustle is proper, I'm trouble for coppers
The slug will drop ya quick, for tryin' to fuck with a mobsta
These niggaz can't squad but thank god
I keep a 38 ride, that'll blow you to cape [?]
It ain't odd that my money bank wire look like I done a bank job
With my sunny state squad
Crooked move out in convertible impalas
Pistols under the Pistons reversible Ben Wallace
No bullshittin' my purpose is big wallets
Sippin' purpose herb cause it's perfect with hypnotic
I told you niggaz I was coming for your ass, and I'm here now
Watch out a real nigga do shit, I got my own Record Label and them suckas is
in fear now, It's more than music
Whoa
Yeah Crooked
Lalalalala What Up?
It's you boy, yeah
Rollercoaster rims I see you
[?]
Where we at on this one?
Hold On...
Yeah, Crooked got ears like DJ Premier's
He came in here just to replace the queers
My heat waves for fear
My clique is so deep
We roll out cause traffic on the freeway for years
If we changing gears, getting' ghost on suckas
Paint a picture for the bread, draw toast on fuckas
Most won't touch us, both coasts love us
Me and my south niggaz cause grown folk ruckus
Man, mofuck 'em all
With this big glock
You can see a trick shot as if you was in Rocker Park
I'm a thug in the heart
Drama on my momma, niggaz love when it start
Damn slugs in the spar
Just do your dog with a chopper after gasoline vodka
The condition we leave you in is gonna puzzle the doctors
My hustle is proper, I'm trouble for coppers
The slug will drop ya quick, for tryin' to fuck with a mobsta
These niggaz can't squad but thank god
I keep a 38 ride, that'll blow you to cape [?]
It ain't odd that my money bank wire look like I done a bank job
With my sunny state squad
Crooked move out in convertible impalas
Pistols under the Pistons reversible Ben Wallace
No bullshittin' my purpose is big wallets
Sippin' purpose herb cause it's perfect with hypnotic
I told you niggaz I was coming for your ass, and I'm here now
Watch out a real nigga do shit, I got my own Record Label and them suckas is
in fear now, It's more than music
Boss Nigga Now lyrics - Crooked I
[Intro:]
What is it all about huh?
What the fuck is it about?
I'm readin an article and they tryin to tell me
I'm jealous of Kurupt's album droppin
What you mean by that, I want all my niggaz to sell on the West
I hope my nigga hit diamond this time
I ain't never been a hater nigga
It's not my motherfuckin veins boy
Real nigga music
[Hook: x4]
Do they hate me now
Cause I'm a boss nigga now
[Over the Hook]
Do you hate me nigga?
yeah, I don't know my nigga
I'm still the same nigga
Do they hate me now?
yeah, I ain't switched nigga
I'm a business man
Let's go...
How many niggaz wanna know the reason I left from Death Row
right after Suge said I was the Best on the westcoast
my pay check over there had me dressing in fresh clothes
with jewelry around my neck I was sexing the best hoes
wasn't a damn thang, you can tell me when I spited
rocking the same chain Makaveli represented
ready to aim thangs when it was deadly I was wit it
pistols would Bang Bang I put shellys in Ya fitted
Fuck It I frontlined it
Got in to beef behind it
the comeback, I was blinded
the contrack I signed it
whoever was braking bread with me That's who I was aligned with
after they did that this cat was one track minded
Ride for the label I'm fatal I'm able to disable any unstable finagler
nigga brought to the table
4 years later I'm Riding no matter what the cause
but it was time to go so I could be my own BOSS MOTHAFUCKA
[Hook: Till The End]
Do they hate me now
Cause I'm a boss nigga now
What is it all about huh?
What the fuck is it about?
I'm readin an article and they tryin to tell me
I'm jealous of Kurupt's album droppin
What you mean by that, I want all my niggaz to sell on the West
I hope my nigga hit diamond this time
I ain't never been a hater nigga
It's not my motherfuckin veins boy
Real nigga music
[Hook: x4]
Do they hate me now
Cause I'm a boss nigga now
[Over the Hook]
Do you hate me nigga?
yeah, I don't know my nigga
I'm still the same nigga
Do they hate me now?
yeah, I ain't switched nigga
I'm a business man
Let's go...
How many niggaz wanna know the reason I left from Death Row
right after Suge said I was the Best on the westcoast
my pay check over there had me dressing in fresh clothes
with jewelry around my neck I was sexing the best hoes
wasn't a damn thang, you can tell me when I spited
rocking the same chain Makaveli represented
ready to aim thangs when it was deadly I was wit it
pistols would Bang Bang I put shellys in Ya fitted
Fuck It I frontlined it
Got in to beef behind it
the comeback, I was blinded
the contrack I signed it
whoever was braking bread with me That's who I was aligned with
after they did that this cat was one track minded
Ride for the label I'm fatal I'm able to disable any unstable finagler
nigga brought to the table
4 years later I'm Riding no matter what the cause
but it was time to go so I could be my own BOSS MOTHAFUCKA
[Hook: Till The End]
Do they hate me now
Cause I'm a boss nigga now
40 Barz lyrics - Crooked I
Yeah, Crooked keep a German Luger, a Bazooka and three vest
He's not from Cash Money but man he's fresh
Ever since I was a baby I was about them millions
All about my paper like my name was Slim Williams
We kill like we primitive, warn women and children
Them wig pillin' henchman have just entered the building, toaten' things with 'em
See I've been packing heaters since niggaz was wearin' adidas
With no strings in 'em, Crookeds flow bring venom
I'm hungry as if my pockets had no G's in 'em
Unload heat hit 'em, the strap spark it
You collapse on a shack carpet, the gat's heartless
Watch it hit the exact target, act hard bitch
we love it when cats start shit
Kill 'em and sell their vital organs on the black market
How many songs must I fucking record?
That a thug [?], till he's runnin' the board
Fuck a couple awards; I want the cover of Forbes
Nigga try to stop that is gettin' stucked with a sword
You don't need nicotine to put a hole in your lung like emphysema
Cause I can do it quick with this trigger finger
Attitude on the mic like Ike when he was sick of Tina
Switch the demeanor, when I'm in a 360 Modena
Fuck a subpoena, a felony or a misdemeanor
Nigga wanna snitch on me, watch how quickly I click the Nina
Yeah, rappers think they hot enough to do me
I'm way ahead of you nigga, you need binoculars to view me
I suck you up and if you think I'm popular then sue me
Your body's poppin' up in two weeks
That don't rhyme, this insane cat don't mind, to add on line
I spit game like Pat O'Brien, big thangs, I don't plan on dyin'
My nick name is Spit flame, quick aim, I keep my hand on iron
And I don't really wanna have to point this pistol at your throat
And send you to somebody who took the Hippocratic oat
Switch it up, each rhyme is vivid, each line is I live it
It's a movie, nigga, these are some cinematic quotes
Your verse sound plastic, just another hers bound bastard
In a dirt ground casket, Crooked is a first round draft pick
In the first round get your ass kicked and die in the first round blasted
He's not from Cash Money but man he's fresh
Ever since I was a baby I was about them millions
All about my paper like my name was Slim Williams
We kill like we primitive, warn women and children
Them wig pillin' henchman have just entered the building, toaten' things with 'em
See I've been packing heaters since niggaz was wearin' adidas
With no strings in 'em, Crookeds flow bring venom
I'm hungry as if my pockets had no G's in 'em
Unload heat hit 'em, the strap spark it
You collapse on a shack carpet, the gat's heartless
Watch it hit the exact target, act hard bitch
we love it when cats start shit
Kill 'em and sell their vital organs on the black market
How many songs must I fucking record?
That a thug [?], till he's runnin' the board
Fuck a couple awards; I want the cover of Forbes
Nigga try to stop that is gettin' stucked with a sword
You don't need nicotine to put a hole in your lung like emphysema
Cause I can do it quick with this trigger finger
Attitude on the mic like Ike when he was sick of Tina
Switch the demeanor, when I'm in a 360 Modena
Fuck a subpoena, a felony or a misdemeanor
Nigga wanna snitch on me, watch how quickly I click the Nina
Yeah, rappers think they hot enough to do me
I'm way ahead of you nigga, you need binoculars to view me
I suck you up and if you think I'm popular then sue me
Your body's poppin' up in two weeks
That don't rhyme, this insane cat don't mind, to add on line
I spit game like Pat O'Brien, big thangs, I don't plan on dyin'
My nick name is Spit flame, quick aim, I keep my hand on iron
And I don't really wanna have to point this pistol at your throat
And send you to somebody who took the Hippocratic oat
Switch it up, each rhyme is vivid, each line is I live it
It's a movie, nigga, these are some cinematic quotes
Your verse sound plastic, just another hers bound bastard
In a dirt ground casket, Crooked is a first round draft pick
In the first round get your ass kicked and die in the first round blasted
Renegade '04 lyrics - Crooked I
Uhh
This for my niggaz
Sometimes I wonder if niggaz still love this rap shit, man
Or y'all motherfuckers only like beats and hooks
It's all good I Ain't mad
I just... nigga
Yeah
This for my niggaz tho
My real ass niggaz
Real nigga music
Hold on
Sometimes I wonder to myself why I'm so vicious and hostile
With a love for gangsta shit thats deep as christians with gospel
And I'm thuggin with a clique of apostles
Artistically I'ma stay sick as Picasso
'Til the niggaz are fossil, 'til the niggaz are artifact
Any cardiac procedures for me
do it in the ghetto cause that's where my heart is at
So if I ever had a heart attack
You shock treatment on the street to bring this artist back
We clear? I feel like this is my autobiography
Make each rhyme freeze time like the art of photography
I can't explain how growing up in poverty bothered me
Gangbangers fathered me, taught me the science of robbery
So I was cockin pistols, when Kris dropped "My Philosophy"
Dropped outta school with an IQ higher than Socrates
Who knew, beein a hoodlum was my outcome
In the 60's, Could've been a muslim named Malcolm
How come, everybody in america's mouth run
Talking about us bad, when you made us pull out guns
Gave my people crack, counter attack that with the RICO act
That's why them penitentiary's be so packed
but if you peep through the key whole black
you see those crackers sittin on the kilo stack
I ain't racist I just wonder where our heroes at
We roll strapped, please know that, we load gats
Send three shots through your moschino hat
Sip some 'Gnac, lean on back, this is gangsta
Movin through the hood in a McLaren FL
Wearin a vest and a gun, bangin KRS-One
just when y'all niggaz thought the terror era was done
a nigga scared to speak, I never was one
So fuck Bill O'Reilly tryin to block my door
You just a racist like half of these L.A. cops I know
I keep a glock ready to lock n load
I steel your soul like elvis stole rock n roll
I'm so political, then again I'm so gangsta that it's pitiful
I squeeze with ease when y'all find it difficult
[x2:]
Crooked is a renegade, I never been afraid
Double r slugs, how many scars can it penetrate
Miggaz wanna lock me in a box, put me in a cage
Cause I speak the real shit whenever I'm center stage
This for my niggaz
Sometimes I wonder if niggaz still love this rap shit, man
Or y'all motherfuckers only like beats and hooks
It's all good I Ain't mad
I just... nigga
Yeah
This for my niggaz tho
My real ass niggaz
Real nigga music
Hold on
Sometimes I wonder to myself why I'm so vicious and hostile
With a love for gangsta shit thats deep as christians with gospel
And I'm thuggin with a clique of apostles
Artistically I'ma stay sick as Picasso
'Til the niggaz are fossil, 'til the niggaz are artifact
Any cardiac procedures for me
do it in the ghetto cause that's where my heart is at
So if I ever had a heart attack
You shock treatment on the street to bring this artist back
We clear? I feel like this is my autobiography
Make each rhyme freeze time like the art of photography
I can't explain how growing up in poverty bothered me
Gangbangers fathered me, taught me the science of robbery
So I was cockin pistols, when Kris dropped "My Philosophy"
Dropped outta school with an IQ higher than Socrates
Who knew, beein a hoodlum was my outcome
In the 60's, Could've been a muslim named Malcolm
How come, everybody in america's mouth run
Talking about us bad, when you made us pull out guns
Gave my people crack, counter attack that with the RICO act
That's why them penitentiary's be so packed
but if you peep through the key whole black
you see those crackers sittin on the kilo stack
I ain't racist I just wonder where our heroes at
We roll strapped, please know that, we load gats
Send three shots through your moschino hat
Sip some 'Gnac, lean on back, this is gangsta
Movin through the hood in a McLaren FL
Wearin a vest and a gun, bangin KRS-One
just when y'all niggaz thought the terror era was done
a nigga scared to speak, I never was one
So fuck Bill O'Reilly tryin to block my door
You just a racist like half of these L.A. cops I know
I keep a glock ready to lock n load
I steel your soul like elvis stole rock n roll
I'm so political, then again I'm so gangsta that it's pitiful
I squeeze with ease when y'all find it difficult
[x2:]
Crooked is a renegade, I never been afraid
Double r slugs, how many scars can it penetrate
Miggaz wanna lock me in a box, put me in a cage
Cause I speak the real shit whenever I'm center stage
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