Crooked I - Hood Politics lyrics

[Verse 1:] k** n***as dead, peel n***as heads k** or be k**ed, that's what a real n***a said I'll spill your blood red, why you still in the bed Cause I know you're squealing trying to make a deal with the feds I'm a east side n***a, a sea side n***a City by the sea, what that beach like n***a We creepin' in the dark while the street lights flicker Who ever make it home is the one who squeeze pipes quicker Rims on 300 C's dubs on the chargers Everybody trying to get their thug on the hardest They don't care if you rap get dumped on regardless Why you think the cops find guns on us artists Crooked is a psycho, creepin' through your momma's house Just to take a picture of her sleepin' with my llamas out Just to show the people who I'm beefin' with what I'm about Hood Politics Obama will knock the drama out Livin' in the fast lane, b**hes wanna slow me down Say I'm in the streets too much, hate when my homies 'round But they should love it cause my homies they gon' hold me down Bros over hoes no meow is gonna show me how to live She don't know nothing about them k**ers in ya crib Waitin' to split your wig, ya dig? She's the first one that's talking to the pigs Like, "Miss, calm down just tell us what he did" She said I ran out in my boxers and my wife beater Start letting off with a chrome .45 heater Damn, yesterday I was thinking I might leave her Now she rolling over on me like a light sleeper Thank GOD! I didn't tell this b**h my real name Told her I was a Junior, she thinks my name is Lil James Now I got a few problems that I gotta fix Talking to the C.O.B.s discussing Hood Politics [Interlude] Yeah, I'm over at this b**h house, man I'm f**ing the sh** out this b**h, I'm nuttin' n***a fall out and sh** I hear some n***a playin' some loud a** music Look out the window, just to see who was making a disturbance and sh** And it's this n***a who said he's gon' get me it's on, on sight So I'm figuring I got this n***a, I got this .45 under the pillow I'm finna run outside and give it to this n***a, right I wasn't even thinking, I was just like, yo, I ain't gon' let him get me So I just ran outside, boxers, wife beater and I start yacking at that n***a, like Bap, bap, bap n***a(Gun Shots) Then n***as start peeling out, the b**h is freaking the f** out I mean I forgot the b**h was even in there, man at that point Now I got a problem [Verse 2:] Yeah, some n***as wear red, some n***as wear blue Some n***as don't bang but they k** ya too Some hustle if you f** them on a deal ya threw We part of organized crime like Sicilians too We charging rappers for protection just to stack some chips So you can walk around icy and they won't snatch your sh** If they do they getting k**ed man and that's just it Cause now you f**ing with our money we take action quick My little homies cut off half your dick Them ba*tards sick, they're psychopathic missing half they wits They ride around driving matching whips Heavy strap blowing G's on hot jeans and active kicks And they love Crooked I cause he crazy yo Twin pistols in the Bentley while the AC blow Block Obama in to change f** the Ra-d-io I know, some of you haters hate the way he flow Cause they think every rappers formula should be intricate It ain't real hip hop if you spitting that simple sh** I don't buy your bullsh**, not even a little bit Bootlegging your favorite rapper you're just a hypocrite File sharing without caring, you're raping your man Same lame creep backstage is shaking my hand He don't know about the hidden four fifth in my waist You should tell me how you feel so I can spit in your face Pistol whip a motherf**er Crooked I don't mind I make the front page of every website online From the 5-6-2 to the 9-0-9 Keep a blamma on your waist I keep a nine on mine Hood Politics [Outro:] There's industry politics too ya know what I mean? They say it ain't real hip hop if you a gangsta rapper Cause you rapping about sh** that go on in the hood But how is it real hip hop, if you downloading your favorite rap artist for free? You ain't supporting your real dude out there That ain't real hip hop either Who's to say what's real n***a? This sh** is real, n***a It's C.O.B. on mine Crip or blood I die trying to unite these n***as, I don't give a f** You better ask tiny C-style man I pull up in the Denny's I'm ghost riding a bentley n***a Yeah I jump out that motherf**er to this sniper sh** right here n***a Let that motherf**er just roll Hood Politics!