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crooked i – big brother lyrics

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[verse 1: crooked i]

i’m every bit of a heavy hitter
what you like, party rhymers or deadly spitters?
it don’t matter ’cause i’m every n-gg-
they get mad when the chevy glitter
don’t get mad, take your best shot
n-gg-s better be reggie miller
i click blast and k!ll you fake p-ss-es
body bags zip past ya face like bay hoodies
the pigs grab the case, we ain’t rookies
so let’s get past the chase, you can’t book me
these n-gg-s ain’t gangstas, they acting
all i gotta do is write your government name on a napkin
half up front, the other half on the back end
i was on stage when it happened, singing and rapping
these cold streets are the father of my militance
everything they taught me was the slaughter of my innocence
part of me is a martyr in a sense
’cause my nice side died, now my heart is dark as a k!ller’s is
i’m from the eastside where n-gg-s k!ll your kids
if you looking familiar they peel your wig
sh-t, a million pigs want to keep me on my side
the other side is where the riches live
my hustle build a bridge
i came from nada, my shades are prada
i’m not from the bay but why can’t you yada
dig the fact that i aim the shotters
blame my father’s baby mama
taught me to aim them llamas
knock the sugar out you sweet n-gg-s though you ain’t pinatas
gangsta persona when i face your honor
you’re dealing with a n-gg- that i take manana
away from you, a straight piranha
pull out the ferrari i sh-t on opposition
i look in the rear view and i see my compet-tion
i ain’t talking about people behind my position
i’m talking about my reflection i’m my only compet-tion
you want to be like me, please stop your wishing
no blasphemy but c.o.b. is my religion
street gospel, you better stop and listen
even in troubled waters it gives you aqua vision
i see clearly homey, please hear me
what you see in a lifetime i’m trying to see yearly
’cause poverty f-cked me up severely
now i come through on chrome feets, freaks cheer me
put ’em in the seat, switch gear speeds
then i turn them speakers up ’til them hoes’ ears bleed
show ’em what a gangsta about
’til i tat crooked i on my d-ck, keep my name out your mouth