Crooked I

Crooked I - Not For The Weak Minded lyrics

Your rating:

Music affects your brain
Whether people will admit it or not
And you have to be weak minded for to do something

All I wanna do is, go harder and harder
Get smarter than Harvard, go hard with the Slaughter
To keep it one hundred, I think the industry wanna see a nigga like me depart as a martyr
Walk in the water, the flow is immaculate
Reading off the Dead Sea Scrolls as I’m rapping it
The track I’m crashing it, making it look like a Cadillac had a bad accident
Cuz y’all ain’t passionate, catch a jab to your abdomen
Then I’mma tap your chin, I’m a boss, you a applicant
Y’all cats pretend (never ever ever rap again)
Crooked I kick it in the hood, pistol to protect me cuz I’m figuring it could
Homie, I’m living like a genie in a lamp
Rub me wrong, I wish a nigga would
Killers ready to get dirty, some niggas who dress nerdy who ain’t even touch 30
They quiet and ain’t wordy, their firing ain’t sturdy
I’ve been a couple of light years from any nigga that wanna discern me
So callate puto, Breaking Bad and I’m Tuco
Got the Hublot hanging out my bulletproof coupe though
If you didn’t, now you do know

Yo, light that up, pour that up
Middle finger music, throw that up
Act like this cuz we don’t give a fuck
(We don’t give a fuck)
Cuz we don’t give a fuck

Why should I, man, with my good eye
I can see all y’all snakes so I put my
Foot up your ass, kill em with success
Look how I pass em up, I’m like “Goodbye!”
Million dollar bitches get bucked in the face
If he ain’t about money then your husband a waste
I’mma switch the scenery up to a bank
That’s how the real nigga cut to the Chase
Pour a little vodka, load the Glock up
Then roll some bomb up that’ll blow Sadam up
Pull up in the drop with Snow Tha Product
We don’t give a fuck is our code of conduct

I’ve been at the shit ...
Man I’ve been broke, I’ve been homeless, you packin’ Benz
I’ve been at this since back when tax bracket shit was way past any practical math I did
Now I’m halfway past half to a capitalist
Three-fourths day of the year ...
Now I’m really getting my dividends and stackin’ up big
Gotta go back to where I’m from to mentally handle this shit
Cuz I’ve been a nobody so long, gonna readjust, get a North Hollywood home
Still close enough to deal with bullshit deals but yet far enough to be where Latin folks roam
All originality with a capital O
So the game wanna see a bitch broke with no soul
So I grasp it tight because a chick like me know
That I would rob these bitches because old habits die slow
Look I never been a punk and I never been a bitch
So you bitches better run, we all know the benefits
Cuz your 15?s done when my 16?s hit
Heard games are for fun but this game’s bullshit
Bitch, no I did not come this far to quit, this argument is not even real
Went from not having a pot to piss to coppin’ whips and stocks and casas in hills
All these new bitches talking but chill
Watch when they get out of pocket, I’ll kill
Any of them, got plenty of friends, at any event
I’ll finish em off, no question, no squeal
Yes I am tired of all you s***s
That been coming in the game cuz you bought your butts
Now you wanna claim fame cuz some guy you fucked is giving you a hood pass, shoulda passed you up
But yup, of course you lie, sit there and organize, try to be more than just hoes
Umm, thinking you sort of tight cuz someone wrote your lines, thinking you whores have got flow
No, you can record the lies, gimme some more so I finally listen and hear dough
Cuz I’ve been trying to hear competition for a god damn year but don’t hear shit but ripoffs and hoes
Get off the blow, get up and get y’all a show
I have been hitting the road, building my own
Little by little but no, I do it all on my own
Yes I got dough, I don’t split shit but to roll
Bitch I can show y’all the ropes
All of you hoes that got cosigns, clothesline dry ass, stale ass bitches need those
I don’t

Yo, light that up, pour that up
Middle finger music, throw that up
Act like this cuz we don’t give a fuck
(We don’t give a fuck)
Cuz we don’t give a fuck

In the underground they put me on the throne
In the mainstream they say I don’t belong
Talk about a nigga only good for a freestyle, fuck that, we can go song-for-song
Word, I’m killing the best of men
Get rid of they next of kin, get rid of the pestilence
I give em a testament, I’m rebuilding the West and I’m pissing off in the coffin that you resting in
Skinny jeans and leggings, you’re anything but legend
I really bring the weapons, the semi beam behead ya
The guillotine’ll sever my killing team and catch all my enemies
I bet you the ten of these will break you apart, yeah
Leaking in a puddle, whole hospital staff meeting in a huddle
Trying to figure out how to put your body parts back together just like the pieces of a puzzle
And I’m gone in the wind, yeah, I’m gone in the wind
I was fucked up, broke, really
Resting my Achilles, I’m balling again
Never going broke, say fuck that shit (fuck that shit)
Yeah fuck that shit
She don’t fuck with Snow, fuck that bitch (fuck that bitch)
Fuck that bitch
Like imagination during masturbation
Fuck what you think, what the fuck did you think
The day your opinions can cut me a check, that’ll be the day I give a fuck what you think
You weak minded
Get this song at:
bol.com
amazon.com

Copyrights:

Author: ?

Composer: ?

Publisher: ?

Details:

Language: English

Share your thoughts

This form is protected by reCAPTCHA and the Google Privacy Policy and Terms of Service apply.

0 Comments found