Crooked I - Boss lyrics

[Intro] They say boss; They say, "Crooked, if it's boss, you gotta ride on that sh**" Let's lay back, though -- let's lay back n***as need to check my files, man I came in as a baby -- '95, n***a Had breast milk on my breath [Verse 1] A lotta n***as never wore gold Til they went gold Never rocked platinum Til they went platinum Never got caught with a .45 Magnum Until the cops pulled over they tour bus and bagged 'em Crooked been a gangster; bang bang llamas Lotta n***as like to say it'll eat you like Jeffrey Dahmer But I'mma say it'll eat you like you was part of the Donner Party Do your research, then you can holler You can ask my momma See what she gon' tell ya I was shooting pistols, she was banging Mahalia Jackson -- treat it like a cla**, then I fail ya If you fail to plan, you plan to fail -- you a failure Lotta emcees like to say they're flipping birds Do you mean a middle finger, or did you pitch and serve? Wasn't cooking in the kitchen; sh** is just absurd I'm serving different verbs and nouns -- sh**, I'm flipping words Drive-by shooter? Nah, I never k** cats Even if I did, I wouldn't tell you -- can you feel that? Heard about your house and your car -- now where your sk**s at? Real motherf**ing emcee, Crooked is still that Tired of you phony-a** rappers pissing me off I'm feeling like I'm Tiger Woods playing miniature golf You ain't menaces, you sensitive -- n***as is soft You n***as innocent; now witness a militant boss Lyrical god, they comparing Jay-Hova to me Polytheism, you ain't gotta change over to me We both gods even though Jay's older than me See, he was GS-300 -- Ranger Rover was me Around the time that my dude dropped Reasonable Doubt I filled the truck up with weed as I was leaving the house Headed toward any small city seeing a drought Had to show them different towns what Cali weed was about [Verse 2] I know you never wore gold Before you went gold Never had platinum Before you went platinum Before 2Pac made "Cali Love" a anthem I was getting Cali love, f**ing hoes at random In Harrisburg, Pennsylvania, I was getting at 'em 333 Kelker, yeah, that's where we had 'em Living on the East Coast, I was only 16 Big bro in the six-fo' with the imph beam All of my Philly n***as, yeah they had sick schemes It's only right that I put 'em in my sixteens Homie slinging to escape the hard living Had a gift for selling crack -- can't say that it's God-given Lot of clientele, think one of 'em Todd Bridges First and fifteenth, screaming, "Money, cars, b**hes" All the G's say, "Young Crooked, die snitches Think about your money -- yup, that's boss business" Everything they told me, me and the homies echo This is dedicated to bad chicks on Miwebo's The ones that want me followed around by Joey Greco from Cheaters They scared to call, they know I let go of heaters Shoot up the camera crew Hoes get in my way, they get the hammer too Get it popping like Shabba Doo Have a few scattered cadavers splatter the avenue Haven't you heard that I spit on street beats Since I was a little n***a watching Spit on Beat Street? Don't know sk**s? Put my sh** on repeat Still don't know, put my sh** on each week I'm rhyming for respect Still feeling like a Vegas dealer in the club, got diamonds on deck Jokers get a blade, cut your heart with a spade This is C.O.B. When? Til I D-I-E, oh Never had gold til you went gold Never rocked platinum til you went platinum f** a freestyle my n***a, this is my anthem Crooked been shining like the rims on the Magnum [Outro] Yeah! Boss, n***a Y'all n***as better check the motherf**ing files All you Hollywood-a** s**ers C.O.B., Circle of Bosses, Cash Over b**hes Crip Or Blood, Controlling Our Block Conducting Organized Business