Everythang - Crooked I

Money from the trap house, beef pull the Macs out

Stuntin' pull the 'llacs out

In case you cats doubt

I’m don' everythang I rap about

And that’s on everythang

Standin' on the club couch

On the corner thugged out, bitches pull they tongues out

When we pull them one’s out

I’m doin' everythang I rap about

And that’s on everythang

Every time I rap, I leak a joint on the Internet

First in the fans say that Crooked I kill a jet

Firin' squad, blindfolded cigarette

Smoke an instrumental, then I’ma chew a Nicorette

Hard bars in effect, rappers livin' in my shadow

Watch ‘em charge rent for my silhouette

I’m the illest, I ain’t met no one iller yet

Workaholic, I ain’t even met my pillow yet

You in your prime when you rhyme where you at

Maybe it’s time for your label to sign a new act

The average person’ll blink seventeen thousand times a day

I spit a rhyme every time you do that

Add REM to that, you got Crooked I

You don’t want none of that

You know where my gun is at

If bullets rain to your brain, man it’s just a fact

Unless your name boomerang, you ain’t comin' back

This industry is full of way too many lames

They know who they are, ain’t gotta say too many names

It’s like they on the benches now

Shootin' from downtown in forth down

They playin' way too many games

But I don’t play though;

G’s molded me like some Play Dough

And still I’m feelin' as philosophical as Plato

I ain’t hatin' on you other artist’s music

Tried to dumb down, guess I’m too smart to do it

Maybe I go somewhere and think of a dance

That’ll be the same day I rock a crease in my pants

Rather tell a bank teller better meet my demands

Put the cash in my palms or have a beast on your hands

I’m the type of dude to put you in an ambulance

If it’s beef, I’m shootin' at QD3's cameraman

Go ahead, stick your chest out fam-a-lam

This ain’t a mammogram, hold up

When I’m spittin' I hope you findin' the art

When I’m rhymin' I’m minin' for diamonds, I shine in the dark

I’m a neurologist slash cardiologist

I’ma touch your mind and your heart

I feel like I’m designin' the Arc

Bullshit is floodin' this rap world

We lost like that Black Girl in Nas' song

All Eyez on Me

You claim to be live, well you got some nerve

You ain’t a title beat rider

You not superb

This east side’ll reach higher

Fresh out the deep fryer, so you know each line is too hot to serve

You rock with herbs, retire

Leave while you got your cry peace by

Do not disturb

Who got the urge to be nicer when I’m speakin'

I’m tryna remind you of 2Pac with words

This is Machiavelli’s retaliation

Bring the blues to your house, quicker than Live Nation