Crooked I - Goin' Bad lyrics

[Intro: KeyAna) I'm a motherf**ing gangsta, I'm a, I'm a, I'm a I'm a motherf**ing gangsta You run around the back while you covered in dough You sitting in the 'Lac with that heat on the floor It's goin' ba-a-a-ad, ba-a-a-ad Two knocks and I'm ? in babe He say, give up the cash or we spraying the place It's goin' ba-a-a-ad, ba-a-a-ad [Verse 1: Crooked I] Yeah, you know the streets feed me and my a**ociates That bread and that f**ing cheese on our grocery list Pockets thick as an Atlanta girl, stroke us chicks My new sh** hit my palms with them poker chips I'm doing business with red laces and blue 'Chucks Now I'm in a white hood similar to Klu Klux Two b**hes, two AK's and two trucks Celibate twins, I don't give two f**s Treated me just like a dead roach so I swallow egg yolks and move heavy bags, Al a Fred Roach My baby got the ?? Give a player brains in the back of the plane, she my head coach I'm loadin' up pistols, n***as full of jealousy Ain't nobody got this car, haters can tell it's me ??? My garlic Benz with those pepper seats, every season I'm strapped, you better reach (n***a breathe!) I know the feds are takin' snaps of my license I meet with my partners they hit us with them tracking devices We go get 'em remove then we hoppin' back in the Chryslers It's priceless them hidden camera's in the back of the license Welcome to the underworld, my n***a wait a minute Nothing but gangstas in it, nothing but hookers getting high off everything invented You need a product then we gotta find a way to send it, we gotta play to win it We gotta play like we the greatest in it, we gotta take the payment I'm in the swamp alligator swimmin' n***as k** you over chains and 'em rim, momma raised 'em to win, streets raised 'em to sin Make a movie 'bout my life bring my face to the films Tyler Perry can't direct it, it's too gangsta for him (I-I-I-I'm a motherf**ing gangsta) And here's how the movie begins Opening scene you see my mother smokin' some green, my brother rolling porch up and crack selling dope to the fiends, me? I'm thirteen got some chrome in my jeans ??? I'm a hustler lookin' up to Freeway Rick My traffic game so ill I made the freeway sick Sent a hundred pounds outta town I'm caking for sure Still living like my paper is low, here we go You mistake me for a b**h tryna play with my dough I got a automatic sprayer with no, serial Reppin' sssutt sssutt C.O.B. that's my crew Just some fly motherf**ers doin' what we do Organised crime we outta your ? dummy f** your Audemar our time worth more than your money We combinin' all our energy to take over this industry our synergy symmetry is finna be felt tremendously Enemies is gonna remember me from Tennessee to Italy, mix some Hennessey with ? and make a toast To the hustlers, the real ones Real raps n***a real guns California behind me, like I crossed the state line Gucci belt, Gucci watch, that's how I waste time I said that's how I waste time You got the pelvis flow n***a you waste lines Yeah I'm in Long Beach ridin' out Doing business with snitches that ain't what Crooked I about You n***as puttin' your head right in a Lion's mouth I'm puttin' bread on your head ? I'm puttin' bread on your head, like you pay for a bl**job Spray you with no problems so calm Kick in your door put your family in handcuffs Slap you so goddamn hard your wife will man up [Outro: KeyAna] You run around the back while you covered in dough You sitting in the 'Lac with that heat on the floor It's goin' ba-a-a-ad, ba-a-a-ad Two knocks and I'm ? in babe He say, give up the cash or we spraying the place It's goin' ba-a-a-ad, ba-a-a-ad (I-I-I-I'm a motherf**ing gangsta)