Crooked I
Текст песни Crook N Porter

Get ready! Mister Porter!
Come on! Predator shit!

Got me Nick Senior let me tell you what the man's bout
I don't dress red and talk funny to stand out
You pushing quarters, petty hustlers get ran out
Put your quarter back in your pocket unless your damn fault
True vision I ride around on a fool mission
Getting away my nutrition my dew listen
The tools hitting, yeah I keep that wig split up
Under my cap like a...when my dew's missing
Green pieces of paper, we trace from Jamaica
16 bars, 16 keys and a scraper
These are the things with a street GC when he made ya
Tell the chef to pop a dough, free season my gaiter
Yeah I kick a flow off the loud
Then I flow off the dome just to throw off the crowd
My nigger in his 30s, ain't no more hopes allowed
Show off my smell!
A gorilla looking to eating a banana in my Range Rover
Nobody smell the pheromones from a laying over
Ain't no I in team, but there's two eyes in we
When we go black ops, nigger game over
Kill'em all until nothing is left for me
I do this while I'm chilling with the cousin of death
Go from Wu Tang I ain't fucking with meth
My crew slang keep that under your breath, we move things
Move at top speed to the top week
Not being serious thinking that you can stop me
I don't do what's popular, I overlook you
Like good view of the city through some new binoculars
You getting money you can mob with us
Flashy like a shooter between two photographers
Still they call the security when corpse floats in
I'm only just a deep thinker dressed in wolf clothes and
I got a pose but my wrist looks frozen
For me in death's door getting pushed open
Funny how a hater wanna stop a nigger shine
Make me wanna grab the Glack and pop it in his mind
Instead I'm a poor shot popping with some long arms
Sipping as vodka strong as your time
God forgive us king so I ...
So Imma hit the grind until the top because it's time
See I'm confident the competition's popping in the line
Not to my face say it to my back
Cause I'm ahead of you whack niggers, blame it on the fact
Your paper get jammed up, blame it on the facts
And everything hanging on the racks
I used to reach out to my armor get tired
I ain't reaching out no more, that all transpired
As a matter of fact this entire song is coughing inspired
Drawn to the fire you fell off, you lost your desire
Call Alzheimer, forgot the last off the roll
G shot niggers all kind of small timers
This tune is an open wound to a salt miner
COB we a few good men like Rob Reiner
That's why them hoes be on us when we would miss the port
I told we getting head or tail you simple quarter
The best rappers alive, from 5 to number 1
If I ain't on the bottom, then niggers switch the order
The press is hip-hoping there but it's rock
And dress as you got the message from the
Come on!
Predator shit!
Come on!