Crooked I - Str8 To The Bank lyrics

Intro: Yeah, I'm comin' at n***as every week now Every 7 days, n***a, I'm droppin' fire Hip Hop Weekly, haha Crooked I, C.O.B. is the Movement Circle Of Bosses, I'm on the Left Coast man Yeah, you n***as know Verse 1: This is a letter to my true fans Take the letter N of the end of fan add a M Yeah, you my true fam I ain't never needed a new Stan Just a new stance to understand the dude's the truth, damn Kiss a record executives a** I can't do They wanna rape you before they Bathin' Ape you I'm clappin' my hands, p**y rapper well done They bend you over made you spell run, are you in? (R-U-N) Now that some deep sh** I'm on some G-sh** like getting' ya peeps hit Not givin' a f** the least bit My trigger click, lick your teeth split Quick as E-Swift sip the liquor That's how quick a n***as heat spit I'm rap terror, I'm meetin' n***as insides Heart dark as the mascara surrounds your friend's eyes Ya'll small French fries insides This brother lynch guys You'll be dead way before the stench dies I'm a way better swinger like I was trained by Mayweather Senior Crooked they ain't never seen ya Grey leather seats in the Modena sh** that straight cheddar bringer Still thuggin' wave middle fingers Bosstradamus – this year I'm droppin' BOSS, I promise Haters yeah I came across your comments While I was lost off in the Bahamas With a awesome little mama, like Buffy, peelin' off pajamas p**y so good I threw her some cheese son Dick was even better so she gave me a refund Speakin' of dick, I'm thinkin' you pricks can eat one And don't ride mine when that summer heat come They say the truth shall come to the light I guess the spotlight is on me when I'm clutchin' a mic Clutchin' it like chrome pipes Not the kind you find under a bike The kind that make swines run for your life All you best rappers alive You make a n***a laugh till i cry Put the cash up, dance with the ‘I' You can be the best rapper alive after I die Then I come back twice, rappin' with the pa**ion of Christ Married to the streets Made her sign a preen up Takin' my paper to the grave, bury me G'd up LBC'd up, yeah, C.O.B.'d up So far ahead, you meth heads better speed up n***as pop pills, getting' E'd up Me, I'm addicted to Lunesta cause I do it in my sleep what?!?! B.O.S.S. See you next week, haha!