(Verse: Joell Ortiz)
|
They say the tongue is the perfect weapon
|
All I hang around nowadays is verse perfection
|
I knew these three niggas for years but when they each get in that booth they make a first impression
|
Time and time again I just want them to thyme again on some fan shit
|
I used to rock boom in the hoopty on the van whip with my man Zick, rest his soul
|
Before I had a clue what Joe was like
|
I used to cop clues just to hear what Joe would write
|
Mowi? Used to tell me, me and Crooked sounded so alike
|
An 07 XXL shoot, he came over like I'm Crook, I'm like oh hi
|
Pleasure to meet you brother
|
Seven years later I'm like wow I met my brother on the freshmen cover
|
We saw the world together, back of that bus fucking girls together
|
Got home and broke up with our girls together
|
Homie, this is special
|
Y'all rescued me from special forces back home forced to wear a 38 special
|
Cause none of 'em jam ya'
|
Summer jam was cool but we hung in Japan
|
I dont think y'all niggas truly understand
|
I used to think my only way out of the hood was through the number, man
|
Get drunk and pop shit about runnin' the can
|
Damn, a whole lot to look forward to
|
Papi I was going through
|
What any other thorough nigga in my hood was going thru
|
The G code I know it's true
|
You throw at every one of them niggas before they throw at you
|
Back then I thought that made me real
|
Listening to myself, now that shit just gave me chills, man
|
Cause Id've missed this bus
|
I mean this private jet, no middle seat cause it's just us, shit
|
All of this cause I can spit
|
It's crazy how this get when you can say that shit
|
For the haters being a bitch like he ain't making no cream
|
I just bought my lady a hit without a radio hit, biatch
|
I'd rather talk to you niggas
|
Cause really it could be on the way I'm offin' you niggas, feel me?
|
And lets just leave it at that
|
Cause if I decide to crumble paper it ain't to rewrite raps
|
I got shooters on retainers that would bring me your medulla in containers
|
Please be on your cool behavior homey!
|
And lets just leave it at that
|
I know I said that shit before
|
But I'm trying to save yall from a war
|
|
(Interlude: Crooked I)
|
Yeah you know how you got a Godmother
|
I got a God grandmother
|
Attie May Johnson, man, I just got the phone call tonight that she...
|
She passed away, man, know what I'm sayin'?
|
She went to the other side
|
Attie May I still got that brute cologne you bought for me for my birthday
|
I love you lemme holler
|
|
(Verse: Crooked I)
|
I was opening up a can of spam putting ketchup on fake meat
|
Still thankful though cause so many hungry nights I ain't sleep
|
Talking to my cousin before I dropped him off in grape street
|
He said crook who we gotta kill to get you a Dre beat
|
Cause I don't wanna see you on this ratchet shit these niggas is on
|
And how come niggas don't pick up the phone for you to get on a song
|
I said probably cause I'mma pick 'em apart as soon as I get in the zone
|
And I definitely didn't condone dick riding so I did it alone
|
Industry don't want a real nigga to creep in fuck it I'mma sneak in
|
And fuck going back to that book store I used to sleep in
|
My homie let me stay on Saturday and Sunday I used to be homeless like the weekend
|
Same three outfits switching them shits till the week ends
|
Drowning in my sorrows drinking till I'm sinking in the deep end
|
Made myself a promise I'mma be the one in the end
|
With these rehabilitation bars ima' clean 'em up with the pen
|
Then my problems gonna be over and solved
|
They finally let me in the damn door now I hope it revolves
|
Let me out of this mother fucker too many corny ass bitch ass
|
Kiss ass punk ass buster ass fuck ass niggas
|
Faggots playing hide the salami
|
This is a snake business my nigga and I ain't the swami n'aw
|
This is crooked remember I rap circles around your favourite MC
|
While calling George Zimmerman a bitch on cable tv
|
In racially profile hoodie using BETs cypher just to push my agenda
|
I'm Dominick Wickliffe, I'm James' son
|
Even though he wore a condom I busted through it I can't forget where I came from
|
I keep hearing that there's real niggas in the game alright name some
|
All I know is raps a circus
|
Your reaching again y'all bleaching your skin y'all bastards searching
|
For plastic surgeons to make sure that all of your facial features are thin
|
You're turning Hip-hop to pop you maggots singing again
|
Just snap your finger and spin
|
What the fuck you rapping for
|
And mother fuck a grammy just hand them bitches to Macklemore
|
I don't need you to tell me that I'm more gifted then a Capricorn
|
Born before Christmas get it y'all on some nonsense
|
And I'm the type to laugh soon as I hear about Donald Sterling's bitch choking on Magic's Johnson
|
|
(Verse: Royce Da 5'9")
|
(Let me get 'em Crook)
|
I'm cool calm collective smooth
|
I'm from using coupons with a true mom with infectious views
|
Number one with you honour and respect the rules
|
I'm five feet nine inches tall but boy when I'm standing next to dudes
|
It's like I'm standing on a stepping stool
|
'Cept when im standing with the wrecking crew
|
We can turn the tables if we could just make these records move
|
I know I know it's easier said then done but until the day that I'm done and dead
|
I'll be remembered by more shit being done then said
|
Listening to rap you gon' hear lies told
|
But not from me and not on this this one goes out to every bloggin' columnist around the globe
|
I want my rhyme flow solidified in time so
|
I gotta get on my grind bro
|
I'm thankful for the success that I have with Em' but honestly he could've sold more records than that on his own in a blind fold
|
And all I'm picturing is my daddy with his arms folded
|
And looking at me with that look like that's cool but get your own
|
Confidence breeds success when it's spoke on
|
Then Patron comes into play then it's postponed
|
For whatever reason Shady Records still believes in us
|
And whatever they see in us Interscope don't
|
Comments being made like niggas old and they pathetic
|
Now how many times have we proved niggas wrong
|
And how many niggas you think gon' come out of them offices
|
And try to show up when we blow up some are gon' even try to take the credit
|
While we was doing the album the Justice League manager was like
|
Them niggas album ain't never coming out them niggas don't even like each other
|
Well fuck the Justice League manager
|
I would tell you to tell him I said it but talk behind backs is for amateurs
|
Bitches fake niggas and punks
|
I don't know it all I just know how to ball and go out and get eight figures in chunks
|
I'm a fucking warrior I'm a true survivor of having death at your door step, drama in your foyer
|
That's probably why I looked at that bottle like that's euphoria
|
When you an addict nobody gotta ask if you wanna' drink that habit will actually ask you for ya
|
And that'll destroy ya
|
Take it from a G they call me a soul survivor
|
Cause my soul done floated on to the crossroads for change more than coal for drivers
|
I made my oldest a promise
|
To keep my balls off the net and stay devoted to his Mama
|
|
(Verse: Joe Budden)
|
(Let me get 'em Nickle)
|
Tell me what if this is big as I'm supposed to be
|
I'd hate for that to get confirmed don't take the hope from me
|
Cause that's a deep threat
|
I mean I'd like to think that I ain't take a peek at my peak yet I got my feet wet
|
In '98 they said I was close to my death bed
|
Vom' and fluid on my cig' it was a meth head
|
Was hard back then ain't have a car back then
|
Still in on mase had me wishing I had tvs on the head rest
|
B.I.G.'s Suicidal Thoughts was getting him through
|
Would've took my life had id've known who I was giving in to
|
Mama screaming listen to rules if you gon live in this roof
|
In retrospect hidden jewel it helped me get in this booth
|
Now my notoriety trumping how incognito I try to be
|
Even make my bitches keep it low they on their Nayeli
|
I don't trust none of these hoes
|
Sad part is I'm such a tortured soul I had that thought when I proposed
|
Suited up ring in my hand while in my head I'm saying fuck this bitch
|
Makes sense that she was thinking even less of me
|
Got ruined in my youth when the first one got the best of me
|
When she said she'd never leave then she left fuck y'all expect of me
|
That resentment only had me fucking different bitches different weeks
|
But most of them was bad that made it bitter sweet
|
Those are growing pains call it paying dues
|
She killed a nigga then birthed one all with the same move
|
We could hit the hookah spot and do a dinner
|
But thanks to my baby mother i'll bust anywhere but in her
|
Cause a baby for her is just a problem i'll be stuck with
|
Like what gives so n'aw I ain't arrogant but my nut is
|
I'm scarred happened years ago I'm still effected
|
If she suck and a swallow then she'll get high it's pill infested
|
500 proof laced with addict deficiencies
|
But accent in my son another owed to inconsistency
|
Ugh' looking at all my life's typos
|
Just trying to remove the fat provide the lipo'
|
Two words for my enemies die slow
|
Full time pyros' we do this with our eyes closed
|
|
(Outro: Joe Budden)
|
Word up man one more time for the half wits and the simpletons
|
It go two words for my enemies die slow
|
Full time fuck it word
|
La slaughter, La Familia
|
Ya know what I mean
|
No matter what we ride, so lets ride
|
|
-----------------
|
Offshore
|
| Slaughterhouse |
