Crooked I - Takeover lyrics

[Intro - Crooked I, Gla**es Malone] Hip Hop Weekly Your boy Crooked I New West in the motherf**in' building Uh oh, aw sh** hahaha New West Pres hahaha G motherf**in' Malone n***a (What up Malone?) What's this like, this is week forty-three right? It's forty-three? How many times do the n***a got to do this sh** For you n***as to realize this n***a's the best motherf**er ever Crooked, hahahahaha This n***a Crooked I stupid with this Takeover sh** It's the West Coast n***a We chopping n***as' thumbs off And tying n***as' ring and middle finger together n***a That's West Coast n***a This everybody loves head on the mic n***a I told ya'll motherf**ers I'll be back I'm 5'9" with size thirteen n***a Tell your baby mamas I'll be home by 12:30 Holla at your moms Week forty-three Technique the block, start a rebel Crooked, what it do man California Crooked I n***a, week forty-three It's ya little homeboy, Tony C-Style the boss [?] checkin' in Well off we're still a family Plus we C.O.B. n***a [Verse 1: Crooked I] Lordy lordy me, could this be forty-three Want to record more than me Go and snort a quarter key Try to stay up more than three days You can't afford to sleep Or to eat or retreat when you're going to war with beats I'm a beast, just swallowed my leash Rather fall to my knees before I call the police I do it all in the streets, not pausing the beef Lickin' shots with the heat to knock you off of your feet Retreat, n***as try to k** me but I had too much heart for 'em This is for my hip hop heads to keep they heart warm I'm a slave to the art form spitting poison in dart form Just tell the universe a star's born Yeah, I'm in the building fierce Writing sh** to control you like I'm William Pierce I got sk**s for years This is time capsule flow In the year two million let a gazillion ears Hear the way that I k**ed it And to my brilliant Brazilian peers Much love cause you still in here And a young thug is motivated by those before me I ain't say all ya'll n***as, hold your horsies Cause a lot of you n***as trying to hold the door see Have me on some f** the world like global orgies Poor me, am I seeking your pity? Hell naw, Long Beach got the key to the city Circle of Bosses motherf**er, we the committee Drinking Henny and squeezing semis plus we deeper than any Easy, you're not ferocious, let's rock I'll be Axl from Glocks N' Roses, head shots Gotta to get rid of you co*k-a-roaches, stress not Never let the block block my focus and ya know since My life is s**, money and carrying chrome They want to put me in the cell like I'm Marion Jones But I'm America's own character to be compared to Capone They find crime somewhere in my songs I tell 'em think for theyself or die when it goes down I say think for yourself or go out like Jonestown I'ma keep it real no matter how I come across Like eighty-nine on the New York Giants, I'm a boss And I see you on your video dressing like a silly hoe Really though now the whole city know That you soft as erectile dysfunction And my mind state is like fresh out the dungeon That's why when critics have debates over who's the best out You left out discussion, check how you plungin' n***a so gay I bet he could fart a gerbil And I'm sharper verbal soon as you spark the purple I sound best when you listen in the dark with herbals C.O.B. is cold, call us the Arctic Circle Always wonder what would happen if I did me Dude I could start a dynasty like M-I-N-G A hybrid, a gangsta slash hip hop MC Cause first I'm KRS-One then I'm Pimp C A MC cause I could spit a rhyme and enflame mics A gangsta cause I could hide a nine in plain sight It's different angles in these parallel lines I'm writing So I'm starting to see geometry and rhyming in the same light One foot in the booth, another in the streets My game's tight but when I go left I ain't right And when I hold techs my aim's nice I spit my whole life burning them corners my n***a you can blame rice [Outro] Hip Hop motherf**in' weekly What up to Vincent in Phoenix Keys in England Nick Bean what's poppin'? Holla, ha-how