Crooked I - One Mic lyrics

[Intro] Yeah, Hip Hop Weekly, C.O.B Circle of Bosses Yeah, they calling me a trendsetter Lot of people doing these weekly freestyles now But guess what [Verse 1: Crooked I] All I need is one week, one beat One leak on the internet I bet me and my thugs eat When words become speech, tongue cheek, front teeth I'm describing a mouth that spits out young heat But so many things I can't say or I incriminate myself Who feeling the same way See I met Jay-Z and Nas both on the same day Around the time of the beef, look at the games fate play The whole sh** was I see Both them n***as probably missed each other by seconds in that hotel lobby Jay told me your here now, no looking back If you do it's a wrap, what you want, this or that That being my past, this being bigger stacks I appreciated the game cause a lot of n***as wack They don't want to see you on top clocking some dinero In Long Beach we call the n***as lobsters in a barrel They rather see you stashing crack rocks in your Camaro Watching for cops, keeping loaded Glocks in your apparel Chest out ready for the next drought on the guap Left out of hip hop, stressed out on the block First n***a who testing get X-ed out on the spot Techs out, let's count how many drop 1-2-3 I'm hearing n***as want to put some slugs through me Murder one, who me? Before I leave I need One week, one beat To show you I'm as lethal as the sh** I keep under my front seat I'm out on that creep, mama thinking her son's sleep Gotta get something to eat, rain, snow, sun, sleet Getting that paper homey, making them mad You see the hood, yeah that's an ape taking a bath You see the Evisu jeans, pistol making them sag You'll really be beside yourself when I break you in half It's a heavy holster thing, big a** gun So it makes my shoulder lean just like Young Dro On the corners mean trying to see them funds though n***as on the scene, they hating on young bro The jealousy virus'll leave you dead in the ground Quarantine the whole hood cause it's spreading around When you're poor as a peasant, haters are never around When you're up, fill your extended clip with seventy rounds I rather be in the booth sh**ting on whoever thing they the truth Making MCs bring me the proof Or either sitting in the seats of my coupe Fresh off tour, f** going to war with my enemy troops In the trenches anything can happen That can alter your future, have you doing anything but rapping Might have to k** a n***a when them things are clapping Police captain hara**ing whoever seen what happened Been in real live shoot outs, no lying or fronting I'm thinking this is it God, if it's my time I'm coming I'm returning fire, I'm running trying to find me something To hide behind, while nines are dumping down Will I last one week, one week on these punk streets What's beef? Beef is when n***as bust heat We all hungry, now you looking like lunch meat One breach of the G code, that's when our guns meet That's why I never let this rap game get to me Cause what they call drama really ain't sh** to me When I met Pac he told me make history So this is history in the making Peace, see you n***as next week