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crooked i - kush freestyle (finale) lyrics
[intro: crooked i]
hip-hop weekly reloaded hehe…
this is the last motherf-ckin weekly
c.o.b. all-stars in the motherf-ckin building…
too many motherf-ckin indians in running around in this weekly series sh-t…
and im the god d-mn chief… (holla at em! hahaha)
heheheh – i got sauce da boss in this motherf-cka, coniyac da x.o. and the horseshoe gang, man
(blaow…buhp-buhp-buhp)
the inner circle n-gga…
lets take it to the hood…
[verse 1: crooked i]
this is for my paralyzed homie, he the realest n-gga made
fron seat in the car, he catch any n-gga fade
he goin up top – bink – leave you in a daze
you can tell he an old g by the grays in his braids
he tell me crooked take us all to the t-o-p
i tell em ssut-ssut c-o-b!
[verse 2: horseshoe g.a.n.g.]
[julius luciano]
my drug is money, yeah, i get high off every scent
so high off every green, by that i mean a monetary lift
[kenny siegel]
im all about by giff but i’ll brratt-pull the trigga
yall should stay out the wood like you flat-footed n-gga
[demetrius capone]
fast with the cl!cka n-gga, tagtoe ya mother
[dice dinero]
my guns’ll wet p-ssies, wood handle, no rubbers
[kenny siegel]
my clan is so gutta
[julius luciano]
me and my n-ggas walkin through the streets like the beatles on that abbey road cover
[demetrius capone]
no father figure, look how the streets turned me
i come from cement, not s-m-n, the streets birthed me
[dice dinero]
i overpaid my dues, this game should reimburse me
me and my n-ggas not just hungry, we thirsty
[demetrius capone]
mask and a full clip, back on that bullsh-t
price, toupee, cash on a fool’s wig
[dice dinero]
when the nights pitch black and the moon’s lit
might get ya wife kidnapped on that goon sh-t
[hook: kenny siegel + julius luciano]
so why would you f-ck wit us
young n-ggas plus gun dillas, young sinnas
fast living on the run til the one’s get us
but we won’t slip up til we touch figgas, k!lla, k!lla
[dice dinero]
f-ck the world – tatt it on my face!
[kenny siegel]
no escape from the animals, bananas going ape
[julius luciano]
shots hot as navada from the gat’ll splatta ya cantelope
[dice dinero + kenny siegel]
blat the calicoe
[demetrius capone]
ima california quake!
[crooked i]
9.0 on the richter scale, plus we k!llin any snitch you tell
(coniyac get em…)
[verse 3: coniyac da x.o.]
im cold enuff to freeze llama
chill a sauna, god ma-the-mrs-block-odonna
forever more beast master, from compet-tor
above all forever soar, -rs-nal never flawed
black hawks down, on them n-ggas with them skirts on
through the scope my murks on (to get in em)
on some eat money sh-t, change no vegan
if beef eatin, im collectin both for the keepin
[verse 4: crooked i]
internet trippin cause this my last weekly
now you gotta catch me in long beach, im eastly
and my cousin sauce from watts, so believe me
this eric wright sh-t, c-o-b easy
[verse 5: sauce da boss]
pound sign smokethatdope, that’s what they call me
saucey, aka, cob marley
nickel plated pistol with that c-o-b thermal
i do it major like im promotin a f-ckin colonel
the game i lay down, kick stand couldn’t stand it
b-tches see me and they panties get straight handed
sauce stay fly and i ain’t planning on landin
i stand out, cuz without a doubt im outstanding
[verse 6: crooked i]
psycho, think i need some prozac yo
sauce tell this b-tch something (smoke that do!)…
baby smoke that do, til choke dat throat
like a d-ck on your tonsils, no d-mn joke
i remember being on the corner, hanging like a throwback jersey on a coat rack low
we was so d-mn broke, til kush gave a broham hope
strong as weed, that’ll make an old man croak
now c0ke ain’t the program no
we slanging that green and i quote “smoke that ‘do”
yeah, get that product and push
we obama kush, we used to call it bush
break it down now…
im complex as lex luther, kobe-esque
im the best shooter, the executer dude with fresh ruger
my projects is fred kreuger, my nightmares press through the
music, i give the vision of death to ya
step to ya, the put the lead through ya
nothin can rescue ya from the possessed david caress junior
suicide, picture a beautiful funeral coffin with you inside
gucci tied, the mortician beautified the fact you was brutalized
in the blink of a human eye, you was euthanized – blaow
c.o.b. ain’t playin over there
sound like death row when dre was over there
with the makaveli poster, layin on the chair
yeah, real n-ggas standin on they square
no i in team, but there’s a u in us
big difference between u and us – n-gga
[outro: crooked i]
im outta here, deuces in the air (peace…deuces!)
im outta here, deuces in the air (we outta n-gga…we ain’t f-ckin with this no more!)
im outta here, deuces in the air (too many swagger jackers! hahaha)
im outta here, deuces in the air (watch what we do next!)
yeah, we don’t follow trends n-gga, we set trends
xxl, source magazine, bet and mtv
yall n-ggas better give respect and salute c.o.b
yo…and to all our fans…
#okbye
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