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crooked i - gangsta gumbo lyrics

[intro: brainiac]
what up?
brainiac, n-gg-
off this jim gittum “gangsta gumbo”
dynasty, b-tch!
the hardest n-gg- in the booth, n-gg-
he go by the name of crooked-motherf-cking-i
and he’s so treacherous

[verse: crooked i]
so many n-gg-s wanna come at the crooked and let a couple of shots
spin me around like i’m a featherweight, knowing that i’m heavyweight
my smith & wesson weapon will make you elevate and levitate
when i regulate i hit the streets like i never ate
i click heat and i never wait, i wouldn’t hesitate
to strap a time bomb to myself and hug you until it detonates
you’re 6 feet, i’m 11’8’‘
and if i told you once, i told you twice
i hold the guns, i’m so precise (so run n-gg- run)
when the soldier come, i’m cold as ice
so hold your tongue or roll the dice (you’re done when i come)
i’m a poltergeist, send them the venom quick as a cobra strikes
kill ’em and kill ’em again
the shots stole your life, you should’ve known the price
a killer that holds the knife to your throat and slice
and when i’m creepin’ by, dippin’ the ‘lac
n-gg- the reason i’m rippin’ the gat is to go brrat brrat
and your people die, n-gg-, blink your eyes
i’ll put you on your back quicker than that
somebody tell me what’s sicker than that
you coward n-gg-s need to get rid of that ridiculous act
when i give you the mack, it’s ripping your back
like dominique dawes, you gonna be flipping no different than that
then we acting reckless, sn-tch your necklace, ratchet death wish
eat your -ss for breakfast when you b-st-rds mess with
the master that’ll blast ya -ss with
any hand selected, cause the man is ambidextrous
still keep a pump with me
for any punk motherf-cker that wanna f-ck with me
still get slumped uncomfortably and touch the streets
so f-ck police, i dump the heat
so what you got props in a magazine
you think your better than me, don’t you n-gg-?
i see you try to freestyle on the tv screen
you think your better than me, don’t you n-gg-?
i put holes in your floor like it ain’t nothing
you think your better than me, don’t you n-gg-?
you better duck and run, you better tuck your gun
cause on the mic i murder n-gg-s for fun
(murder n-gg-s for fun…)

- crooked i lyrics

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