Put You on the Game

[Intro]
Yes sir, Hip Hop Weekly
It's forty-two
Countdown, ten more left after this one
Let's go
Woo, yeah
Before I, before I dead this series man
I gotta rock beats from uhh
From all the artists that I, respect you know
Haha, yeah
It's Hip Hop Weekly nigga, I'm Crooked I, C.O.B., yeah

[Verse 1]
Gimme dead presidents, it's like the cemetary's in my pocket
It's like I got green obituaries in my wallet
Not only visionary, I'm a prophet
It ain't nothing else on my itinerary but guap bitch
To you haters, my fo-fo go to war for a hobby
More than Bonnie did with Clyde, shotty explore your body
And you ballers, I fold more paper than origami
You get shit on like somebody tipped over your port-o-potty
Mark Zuckerberg started Facebook, I'ma start FaceCrook
A site for rappers who want to face Crook
I got the game shook, I'm a different animal
My senses so sharp, I can hear how touch and taste look
Hittin' licks out West, in the Tri-State, it's a straight jux
Emeril Live, my .38 cooks
I direct your death better than James Brooks
Straight hair trigger my nigga, don't make me say whoops
My bad, trigger slipped, the biggest niggas get clipped like coupons
Flipped in your Yukon
Picture a prodigy, a genius like Jimmy Neutron
Still hood enough to cum all over your bitch's futon
Got a fetish for lettuce, gimme them croutons
Every whip I'm in has been registered in the Dupont
The rap reaper, I crack speakers
I crush niggas to salt, pepper and paprika
My raps eat ya, you didn't know I was that ether
The track freaker, my hood game ain't bad either
I clap heaters and a nigga attract divas
I'll black jeep her, like Cool J I'll backseat her
When I retire I'ma disappear with a black diva
Then come back when the world's in need of a black leader
I'm not fat, I'm still thinking with a younger mind
I'm still dumping nines and fucking them drunken dimes
I'm still on the grind for that cake from Duncan Hines
I'm still tied to crime, for the hood my love is blind
I know that don't sound like the makings of a Martin
Luther King but I'm a human being, beg your pardon
We can all be great man, nobody's perfect
I want to put my faith in politicians, nobody's worth it
Fuck it, I'm sipping Henny going hard with God forgive me
Got me ghost riding the Bentley in the parking lot of Denny's
If anybody trip they'll see a artist pop a semi
I'm gunnin' for the money but my target's not the pennies
Had a vision of moms in the market rocking Fendi
Then it came to fruition and I started popping Remy
I started off with nickels then I started clocking twenties
Quick story, let me tell you why part of Pac is in me
His sister told me all of his struggles was for his fam
Took her from nothing to something, that's exactly who I am, damn
Can I talk to you? Let me talk to you
Talkin' to the doors of success, watch how I walk through you
Keep your mind on the paper, the universe'll bring the vault to you
Damn, you don't think like a boss do you?
I'm on that Eastside, I'm in my G5
Anybody blocking my grind is getting deep fried
Like Mickey D's fries, they tell me heat rise
That's why I raise the heat and then I squeeze five
That's how I send you tricks to bathe in Hell's flames
I'm rich bitch like Rick "Dave Chappelle" James
That's how I send tricks to bathe in Hell's flames
Rich bitch, rich bitch

[Outro]
Hahahahaahaha, yeah
Yeah, I could tell
I could tell there's a few niggas who didn't know I was a beast on this bitch
Hahahahaha, woo
This ain't nothing new nigga
I'm going to fifty-two then I'm through
But I could go to five hundred nigga
Hahahahahaha, yeah
Hip Hop Weekly, C.O.B., Circle of Bosses, Crooked I
Treacherous is the motherfuckin' movement
Horseshoe Gang in the motherfuckin' building
Ya'll know what I'm doing right