Brady Watt’s Bass & Bars Episode 16 [Ft. Crooked I]

See, I'm about that life my G
My gun unload, I live by another code
My desire run the globe
Why these rappers think they born to be the shit?
'Cause they fell out of their mother's other hole?
Hell mothafucking no, yo
You don't think that Crooked I's hot?
Tell me why not
Is it cause the Maybach's in your blind spot?
I sleep with one eye open like an insomnia-stricken Cyclops
'Cause I could rest in that pine box
I'm on, so many drinks can't even count em
So high, I fell up the stairs instead of down 'em
So high call that shit American Airlines
Me & Brady we gon' fuck it up every time
You not a legend like John
Move back like his embarrassing hairline
Let the heir to the chair shine
Throughout ugliness, my team is there with me
I call it Lovie Smith, my team bears with me
Still I'm feeling like an organ donor
So many niggas dying to get a part of me
Like I'm born with a rare kidney
But come and get me
I leave you down under somewhere in Sydney
Different kind of chopper, still airlift him
See my momma named me Dominick
That’s synonymous with ominous
I'm in this game to show you what drama is
I'm in this game to conquer it
Like Genghis Khan in this monstrous entourage
What challenger can dodge my barrage
Look at the DuPont registry: that's my garage
Convertible Beamer, paint blacker than Amistad
Hear the engine noise, I’m ballin' with different toys
Still I spit it like Kool G when he was rippin' poison
My pen game is sick, call it penicillin
Since sky's the limit, this the flow that'll kill a ceiling
You guys are gimmicks, hide your women
Crooked's into Virginia drillin'
The realest women they feel the villain
I'm fill 'em with Big Pimpin', even a virgin
Cut off my leg, I put a shoe on my third one
Look how easy the words come
I'm the West Coast saviour
That's why they yellin' ''church'' when the verse done
Speakin' of church, from the city where sinners dwell
Sinister LBC and I came to give ‘em Hell
It's Judgement Day and I'm judging you infidels
Sippin' Zinfandel, my liquor be off the Richter scale
It's 2019, we 'bout all bars
We the Chuck Taylor crew 'cause we All-Stars
Add Eminem, our hits are the hardest
Turn a DJ into an MMA-fighter when he mix Marshall artists
I'm from the West, we ain't with the garbage
You ain't fucking with that Dodger hat
Unless your name's Mr. Marcus, I lift your carcass
And if you listen to this ill spit in your whip
The flow will get you car sick
It's Long Beach every day y'all
They finally free my homie Tray Deee, now R.I.P. Nate Dogg
I'm just a Slaughter rider waiting for you in that same basement
That Biggie Smalls had your daughter tied up
Waiting for that snitcher's Carter drive up
Come inside and die, I hop in this whip turn the Carter V up
I mean that Carter IV
I paint any town red that's the Art of War
I buss you in any city 'cause I'm on a tour
I'm at you, I'm not a out of tour, either or but attach you
Ain't no better mobsters, me and the Slaughters
We're like energy drinks mixed with Tyra Banks
Four-headed monsters!