[Intro] Yeah they ask me why I'm a boss I grew up in the motherf**ing gutter homeboy, nothing Gang bangers, drug dealers, hoes, prostitutes Rats, roaches, WIC checks and sh** Ya naw mean And I came out that sh** with a motherf**ing fresh white tee on Necklace shining like neon Boss sh** that's what I be on, let's get it Hip Hop Weekly n***as, the quit snitchin' addition Let's go Yeah, sup G Sup Tune[?] It's the motherf**ing quit snitching addition These n***as got my stomach sick right now f**ing f*ggots King of the south what it do [Verse 1: Crooked I] I don't speak around snitches n***a close the door Why you think they real now when they was hoes before Man the streets brought the beef, I never chose the war Semi-automatic weapon that's what those are for n***as need courage snorting 'til they nose is sore But my gat making them crank that Soulja Boy I shot five, I was 0 for 4 Fifth one hit 'em and did 'em Told you I was known to score With the Wesson cause I was taught life got a dress on Hair weave and press-ons, a b**h that's the lesson Cops pulled me over while I had my other chest on That's a bullet-proof vest, the pigs didn't catch on Want to give me fed time for that infrared nine Put me in a cage, let me age like red wine Haters after my life, I got to protect mine Blind hatred for me because my neck shine Since them coffins are pine I wish a n***a would Like I murdered a Klansmen I k** you in your hood Catch you slipping and peel your wig while you feeling good Keep me off of your head, only a million could Hard cash, I'm blasting your mark a** Paint the town red like art cla** Lay 'em down dead soon as that car pa** Spray 'em wild lead, duck when you see sparks flash I don't play around yeah I know Crips my n***a, I know Bloods I know mafiosos, I know thugs My mama sold weed homey, I know d** I pushed whips as a kid, I know dubs I know fake hand shakes and cold hugs I know tapped phone lines, I know bugs I know .38 snubs, I know slugs I know snitching son of a b**hes get no love [Interlude: Crooked I] Yeah, hold on man Let me cut the beat off for a minute Hey, let me holler at these snitch-made motherf**ers right now There's probably a snitch right next to you right motherf**ing now Ya naw mean, informing in your circle and sh** sh** make me sick to my motherf**ing stomach man That's why C.O.B. is my religion Yo [Verse 2: Crooked I] They got me sick cause they snitching again Breaking the G code, homey this is a sin Act like they your friend but these n***as pretend When I accepted your friendship I pissed in the wind I broke you off Benjamans and hit you with ends You broke the loyalty became a witness for them So I could be sentenced n***as sit in the pen When my n***as catch you slipping they gon' hit you with ten My brother Byron send your pictures to him I want his face mangled, f**ed up, missing his chin I know the system wanted to see me dicked in the end The game wasn't designed for real n***as to win Don't want to see a hood n***a triple his gin Cause in the revolution I point my pistol at them Want us to entertain 'em but they didn't intend For n***as to get rich with millions to spend So they send a fake n***a to sit in your den He broke bread with you like this is your kin Don't think he got your back cause you got similar skin He black on the outside, Willie Lynch is within Take a n***a to catch a n***a, they did it again For you coon n***as I don't got a minute to lend I ain't trying to say we all some innocent men But justice for us young ghetto n***as is when Cops been hara**ing me since I was ten Hell of a way for my relationship with pigs to begin Life is so real catch me sipping this gin Freestyling about this sh**, no pencil or pen Quit snitchin'