Whoo Y'all know we had to flip this shit right
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We to ghetto to let this one sneak past us
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Fuck that Ey Vegas, let's tell 'em what we say
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Evrytime we see a stool pigeon rat
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[Intro: x2]
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Don't snitch, don't be a bitch
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West Coast let's get rich
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Flood the industry with gangsta hits
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Count some cash, stack some chips
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Don't snitch, don't be a bitch
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East Coast let's get rich
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Flood the industry with gangsta hits
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Smack some ass and grab some tits.
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[Verse 1]
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What's it all about?
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You dudes can't come out the house
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Made to many enemies, you runnin' ya mouth
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Now you on lock down, sittin' on the couch
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Talkin' to cops you need really to cut it out man
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Picture Crooked I lovin' a snake, you get robbed for dough
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You get shot fo' sho' youknow
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That ain't gangsta you son of a bitch
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Givin' cops the info they not suppose to know
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And they own every block from coast to coast
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Tellin' on who ever cock and grows the most
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Send a nigga up the river if a snitch is around
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You better lock and close ya doors
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See I'mma rep my city for ever, yeah
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Roll whips on 20's or better
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Pointin' many machine guns, semi-auto beretta
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And my enemies sweater like gimme the cheddar, yeah
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Crooked live illegal as hell
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Send a couple kites to my people in jail
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Think about this when you readin' your mail
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These niggas be eager to tell.
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[Hook: x2]
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See I been hopin' and wishin'
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All you rappers Quit Snitchin'
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Always talkin' to the police
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Tryna send my homeboyz to prison
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That ain't good where I'm from
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Whoever hang around you is dumb
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Cuz they know you work wit' the po-po
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Crooked I, ain't the one.
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|
[Verse 2:]
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Now I done seen you on the TV-screen
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Snitchin' to cops, you was on channel 13
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Now you try to say that you the west coast king
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What tha' fuck does this skinny nigga mean
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Sold out cheap, you won't play ya own team
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Shoulda let me out ya whole little sceam
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Mention my name and when you see me better swing
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Talkin' 'bout peace in the Source magazine
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Nope, to late for that, I wanna brake your back
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I can't wait to scrap, catch you in the alley
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Just to snake and rat you better face the fact
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You ain't gangsta rap, you a federale
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Need to live by the code of the street
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I think about you when I'm loadin' my heat
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But I'd rather throw blows to ya teeth
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Cuz I was always talkin', shootin' ho's is weak
|
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I'm still feelin adrenaline with the pistol when I'm peel'em
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Then kill'em like a villian with the penicillin when the
|
Bullets... drillin'em
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Spinnin'em a whole round and I'm peelin'em
|
The villain is willin'em to keep beef to a minimum
|
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WOOOO
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Crooked I's the one
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Snitch ass niggas need to hide and run
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Go to the club and we ride wit' guns
|
But really though we just wanna have fun...
|
|
[Hook: x2]
|
See I been hopin' and wishin'
|
All you rappers Quit Snitchin'
|
Always talkin' to the police
|
Tryna send my homeboyz to prison
|
That ain't good where I'm from
|
Whoever hang around you is dumb
|
Cuz they know you work with the po-po
|
Crooked I, ain't the one...
|
|
-----------------
|
Quit Snitchin
|
| Crooked I |
