Crooked I - Put You on the Game lyrics

[Intro] Yes sir, Hip Hop Weekly It's forty-two Countdown, ten more left after this one Let's go Woo, yeah Before I, before I dead this series man I gotta rock beats from uhh From all the artists that I, respect you know Haha, yeah It's Hip Hop Weekly n***a, I'm Crooked I, C.O.B., yeah [Verse 1] Gimme dead presidents, it's like the cemetary's in my pocket It's like I got green obituaries in my wallet Not only visionary, I'm a prophet It ain't nothing else on my itinerary but guap b**h To you haters, my fo-fo go to war for a hobby More than Bonnie did with Clyde, shotty explore your body And you ballers, I fold more paper than origami You get sh** on like somebody tipped over your port-o-potty Mark Zuckerberg started Facebook, I'ma start FaceCrook A site for rappers who want to face Crook I got the game shook, I'm a different animal My senses so sharp, I can hear how touch and taste look Hittin' licks out West, in the Tri-State, it's a straight jux Emeril Live, my .38 cooks I direct your d**h better than James Brooks Straight hair trigger my n***a, don't make me say whoops My bad, trigger slipped, the biggest n***as get clipped like coupons Flipped in your Yukon Picture a prodigy, a genius like Jimmy Neutron Still hood enough to cum all over your b**h's futon Got a fetish for lettuce, gimme them croutons Every whip I'm in has been registered in the Dupont The rap reaper, I crack speakers I crush n***as to salt, pepper and paprika My raps eat ya, you didn't know I was that ether The track freaker, my hood game ain't bad either I clap heaters and a n***a attract divas I'll black jeep her, like Cool J I'll backseat her When I retire I'ma disappear with a black diva Then come back when the world's in need of a black leader I'm not fat, I'm still thinking with a younger mind I'm still dumping nines and f**ing them drunken dimes I'm still on the grind for that cake from Duncan Hines I'm still tied to crime, for the hood my love is blind I know that don't sound like the makings of a Martin Luther King but I'm a human being, beg your pardon We can all be great man, nobody's perfect I want to put my faith in politicians, nobody's worth it f** it, I'm sipping Henny going hard with God forgive me Got me ghost riding the Bentley in the parking lot of Denny's If anybody trip they'll see a artist pop a semi I'm gunnin' for the money but my target's not the pennies Had a vision of moms in the market rocking Fendi Then it came to fruition and I started popping Remy I started off with nickels then I started clocking twenties Quick story, let me tell you why part of Pac is in me His sister told me all of his struggles was for his fam Took her from nothing to something, that's exactly who I am, damn Can I talk to you? Let me talk to you Talkin' to the doors of success, watch how I walk through you Keep your mind on the paper, the universe'll bring the vault to you Damn, you don't think like a boss do you? I'm on that Eastside, I'm in my G5 Anybody blocking my grind is getting deep fried Like Mickey D's fries, they tell me heat rise That's why I raise the heat and then I squeeze five That's how I send you tricks to bathe in Hell's flames I'm rich b**h like Rick "Dave Chappelle" James That's how I send tricks to bathe in Hell's flames Rich b**h, rich b**h [Outro] Hahahahaahaha, yeah Yeah, I could tell I could tell there's a few n***as who didn't know I was a beast on this b**h Hahahahaha, woo This ain't nothing new n***a I'm going to fifty-two then I'm through But I could go to five hundred n***a Hahahahahaha, yeah Hip Hop Weekly, C.O.B., Circle of Bosses, Crooked I Treacherous is the motherf**in' movement Horseshoe Gang in the motherf**in' building Ya'll know what I'm doing right