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crooked i – a capella at sxsw lyrics

i’m about that life, my g
my gun’ll load
i live by another code
my desire — run the globe
while you thinking you was born to be the sh-t
because you fell out of your mother’s other hole
h-ll motherf-cking no
you don’t think crooked i’s hot?
why not? is it cause my maybach’s in your blind spot?
i sleep with one eye open like a insomnia-stricken cyclops
cause i could rest in a pine box
i’m on; so many tricks, can’t even count ’em
so high i probably fall up my stairs ‘stead of down ’em
so high, call that american airlines
slaughterhouse, n-ggas rip sh-t e’ery time
you not a legend like john
move back, like his embarr-ssing hairline
let the heir to this chair shine
throughout ugliness, them slaughters there with me
it’s all lovie smith, my team bear with me
still i’m feeling like a organ donor
n-ggas dying to get a part of me
like i was born with a rare kidney
but come and get me
i’ll leave you down under somewhere in sydney
different type of chopper, still airlifting
see, my mama named me dominick
that’s anonymous with ominous
i’m in this game to show you what drama is
i’m in this game to conquer it
like genghis khan and his monstrous entourage
what challenger can dodge my barrage?
look at the dupont registry, that’s my garage
convertible beamer, paint blacker than amistad
hear the engine noise i’m blowing with different toys
still i rap like kool g. when he was spitting “poison”
my pen game is sick, call it penicillin
sky’s the limit, this is the flow that can k!ll a ceiling
you guys are gimmicks, so hide your women
crooked’s into virginia, drilling the realest women
feel a villain, i fill em with big pimping
even the virgins
i lose a leg, i throw a shoe on my third one
look how easy the words come
i’m the west coast savior
why you think they yelling, “church” when my verse done
speaking of church, i’m from the city where sinners dwell
said it’s the l-b-c, we came to give ’em h-ll
it’s judgement day, i’m judging these infidels
sipping zinfandel, my liquor be off the richter scale
and on this t-h-r-o-n-e i will sit a spell
yeah, that line’s sicker than sickle-cell
now n-ggas know what it is
we the chuck taylor crew, all bars
i mean the chuck taylor crew because we all stars
you add eminem, and the hits are the hardest
we turn djs to mma fighters when they mix marshall artists
west coast, we ain’t f-cking with the garbage
you ain’t f-cking with that dodger hat, unless your name mr. marcus
i lift your carc-ss
if you listen to this ill spit in your whip
the sh-t’ll get you carsick
this long beach every day, y’all
i say free tray dee, i say r.i.p. nate dogg
i’m just a slaughter rider
waiting for you in the same bas-m-nt
that biggie smalls had your daughter tied up
waiting on this snitch’s car to ride up
he come inside and die
i hop in his whip, turn the car to five
i mean the car to four
i paint any town red, that’s the art of war
i bust you in any city; this is not a tour
i tax you; i’m not an auditor either or
but i’m at you — it ain’t no better mobsters
we a mix between tyra banks and energy drinks
four-headed monster

- crooked i lyrics

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