| Yo, last week was the calm, this is the storm |
| Shout out to everybody fuckin' with the Weeklys (Yeah) |
| «Hold up Crooked, now what you up to? |
| We don’t trust you to give the classics just due"(Huh) |
| Who flippin' classics better than us two? |
| My attitude is just like Prodigy, nigga, fuck you |
| I’m takin' music to the left side like a clef note |
| Grab a NY classic and drag it to the west coast |
| Put it on hydraulics, had that motherfucker hoppin' with a yappa in the |
| passenger seat, signin' your death note |
| I cock and spray got your body armor slayed |
| Blood drippin' out your body armor like it’s marmalade, karma pay |
| Helicopter blade, helicopter fadel |
| Lyrical gangbangin' like Dr. Dre in a Chronic way, except it’s modern day |
| If any opponent enter my zone, the serial killer is gettin' it on |
| Niggas are pitiful, thinkin' they lyrical, how many syllables fit in a song? |
| Just leave the spitter alone, sendin' you home, splittin' your dome |
| Did it alone, but they think I did it with clones, just like it was three of me |
| I got so much G in me like Eazy-E, but it ain’t easy bein' me |
| Shady with the nickel-plated nine just like BME |
| Bad Meets Evil, the Desert Eagle is on creatine |
| Bullets from the iron remind you, the flyin' guillotine |
| Witnesses outside, they lie, too blind to see a thing |
| Crooked I’s alive, but I decided to be a king |
| Battle rappers want me inside the arena ring |
| They know I’m barred up, look at me, God |
| I been in real bar fights, under my eye I’m scarred up |
| I ain’t hard up for no money, I fuck a snow bunny |
| Give her the black cock, jackpot, that’s some hard luck |
| Like I’m dark skinned, Puerto Rican and Asian |
| Word to Phife Dawg, I ain’t like y’all, I just night crawl |
| When the night fall, peep the invasion |
| I remember when beefin' had a nigga sleepin' in Days Inn |
| I’m a east side nigga, Long Beach nigga |
| I’m a nigga with a attitude, I’m spittin' gasoline |
| The track is gettin' fucked with no vaseline |
| I’m a '91 Ice Cube, bow down |
| Hyenas are on the prowl now, animal version of savage |
| Insurgents with cannons and turbans, we gon' wild out |
| They found out what my fighting style 'bout |
| Kicked him from his front yard to his back, now that’s a roundhouse |
| Crooked’s immortal, I travel through different portals, I got a different |
| decorum, these whores wanna give him oral |
| Want me to store 'em and horde 'em, force 'em against their morals |
| While me and her nigga quarrel, so me and my dick ignore 'em |
| But I might be at the 'cino if that chocho lookin' fat |
| That mean lick her in the front, poke her in the back |
| I’m so many in a slot, give me that honey and your pot |
| Thinkin' it’s funny, 'cause I got my car running in the lot |
| When this over, it’s a rap |
| Back to the grind again, I got a coal mine, not the kind that you find miners in |
| I’m from a different a cloth, you niggas soft, you niggas average |
| I’m from a different fabric, I write with a designer pen |
| When I’m listenin' to Mobb Deep, mind state is hungry and skinnier than Gandhi |
| You won’t need a stethoscope to listen to my heart beat |
| I do it for the block, just put your ear to the concrete |
| Speakin' of heart, picture me stoppin' the heart of every popular artist |
| toppin' the charts |
| You put a battle rap out? That’s like sippin' yak during a black out |
| Shot in the dark, I flood shit, hop in the Ark like Noah |
| You wanted ridiculous lyrics, here it is |
| I’m on some other shit, like parkin' my mothership |
| Hop out, rockin' some khakis and house shoes in my pyramid |
| I don’t care if you listenin' 'cause I know your spirit is |
| Still spittin' that real ass shit, ill ass shit |
| My fans sayin', «Kill that shit!» |
| They sayin', «Go Crooked, kill that shit!» |
| They sayin', «Go Crooked, kill that shit!» |
| You think I ain’t, when I am? Yeah (Huh) |
| I hear your rappers conversations when the mic’s off |
| Some Mass-hoes avoiding you was the right call |
| Why would I talk around the same piece of the shit I would walk around on the |
| side walk? I ain’t like y’all |
| No, I ain’t like none of you niggas in the industry and every week I’m goin' on |
| another killin' spree |
| Fuck outta here with them Roseanne bars, you big pussies |
| No wonder I’m so damn hard, I get busy |
| Yeah, the Weeklys (Weeklys) |
| Every Friday, you know what’s poppin' |
| It’s that time again, you know I mean? (Time, time, time) |
| Jewelry (Yeah, R-I-P Prodigy) |
| You see me in traffic, bark at ya dog |
| Ayo, Nate, let’s get the fuck outta here, man |