Crooked I - The Kite lyrics

[Intro:] Yeah, this is a kite goin' to all my homeboys locked up in the penitentiary federal and state We ain't forgot about you, my life long wish is for all my real n***az to feel me Yeah, ya know, I gotta put it on the streets man That's what I live and die for - the streets, yeah .. [Verse 1:] Out on them streets I put my life on the line Between these sheets I put my life in them lines Crooked reciting these rhymes Givin' sight to the blind In the dark my recital will shine light in ya mind Like God cipher divine I'm a fight for my kind n***a, surviving the grind With a sniper designed, rifle aligned right for ya mind I target a man I was thuggin' before I became a marketing plan Cover my heart with my hand, and vow To keep it real, can't [?] ya [?] Target the hearts of the fan, like the archer is part of the plan Man, my loved ones who restin' in peace They couldn't peak at the peak I was destined to reach Through expressing a speech I'm the essence of each O.G. before me They gave me lessons to teach I'm Pablo, you can't measure the reach A cop-ho, f** gestapo, arrest the police d**h to the beast A renegade menace, n***az witness the birth Every listener's a prisoner, til I finish the verse Every minute I'm spittin, you sittin' in a ministers church You n***az is b**hes, I'm militant, I'm liftin' ya skirt Society's prejudice, f** it, all hope is lost To piss 'em off, I do what you call "over-floss" That's the reason the Benz got all chrome exhaust They hate a ghetto n***a, cigar-smokin' boss I'm crazy! Put me on a therapist couch I've seen stomach shots leave a n***a wearin' a pouch I've seen people's parents parish for careless amounts So what's the starin' and the swearin' about? This unfair character 'll stick his derringer square in ya arrogant mouth I'm darin' ya, coz you apparently doubt That I will merrily bury ya, without care when the sheriffs is out And go that devout terrorist route You box, I shoot glocks, we just don't compare in a bout A shot caller I'm airin' you out A boss baller Crooked I, you know I'm wearing Cartier in a drought We live from ghetto America's house Where the police get a paid vacation for kickin' n***az a** So 3rd strikers see the cop and let the trigger blast There's so much pain in a n***a's past We finna eat til we sick of cash Me and my k**az finna mash for real, til we open them doors It's young boss, sincerely yours! (sincerely yours) [Hook:] P.S. - Real n***az know they gotta grind B.S. - Bullsh** will get you left behind E.S. - East Side ride everytime P.S. - Real n***az know they gotta grind [Outro:] Yeah, it's a kite goin' to all my homeboys in the penitentiary I ain't forgot about you Yeah, revolutionary - yeah ... but gangsta The federal crime bill is full of pages to keep us in cages The government got a plan for you n***az, you better keep your eyes open yeah, ya know I see you rappers on TV, you grease monkeys You mothaf**ers greased up with all them tattoos and ya shirt off You point a gun at me, but not a C.O. - P Yeah, you soft as cotton East Side Long Beach - we revolutionary We revolutionary... but gangsta