Crooked I - My b**h (Week 16) lyrics

[Verse 1: Crooked I] So many paths to take, I took the G road Life is a game, I got the cheat code f** cheap clothes, I'm Artful Dodgers Gimme that parish, my style is beast mode You think you it you're bank account fat I f** yo b**h, bank account that Paper brown bags, my bank is out back It's buried under the gra**, I get paid without tax I put momma in a Range Rover sport jeep That's for ignoring pops when he said abort me We was once poor but now we got more cheese Short sleeve white tees, Cayenne Porsche keys who*e please, ya'll know the business You only f**ing with me cause I push Benzes Plus Im in your stomach when I'm dicking you Like you pregnant with a baby and he's kicking you Good dick bringing out the crazy b**h in you It's true, that's what the magic stick can do Have you following me to my house, acting all wild Who's that peeking in my window? Brr-aow! Nobody now I told the cops I thought a burglar was on the prowl Since I'm rapping I gotta be nicer But I'm acting just like Mekhi Phifer Diss me and I'll Swiss knife ya I met get hyper, let the sniper rifle strike ya You got guns, I got weapons as well My uzi might scream, mac-11'll yell Got a rusty .38, send you directly to hell That's my old school shotter, call him Kevin McHale Ya'll n***as better exit right, don't get it backwards Like the letters to dyslexic eyes, exercise The guns better recognize, the tec electrifies whoever testifies Put bread on your head, change on your brains every time Got your mind on your money but my money's on your mind When my money's on the line, I get nutty when it's time Act funny with a dime, hit the dummy with a nine I don't need a seance or Ouji boards To know about to send your soul to go meet the lord I'm choking n***as with a TV cord License to Ill just like the Beastie Boys n***a, lot of dudes got money in this rap game But they ain't really get their money out the trap game All the sh** you saying I can't respect it Before you sold records your neck was naked Your wrist was timeless just like my freestyles My paper stretch long, call it The Green Mile The street made my heart darker than Gotham Crooked survived the hood, now it's harder to stop him Even want to support you wack artists I'm dropping But if I'm banging your sh** then I'm part of the problem I'm hearing rappers complain Saying the industry got too many Bloods and Crips Watch your lips, C.O.B., Crip or Blood bang your clips Eastside in the sky and I'm out this b**h