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Crooked I - What That Mean
#1
Artist: Crooked I
Song: What That Mean
Produced by: Rick Rock
Appears on: St. Valentines Day Bossacre


Intro: (Crooked I)

He’s talking about that paper
He’s talking money right now

What that mean? It mean get that green!

Verse 1: (Crooked I)

I’m one of the hottest niggas you can ever produce, huh
Who let this arrogant character lose? Huh?
I’m Ghetto America’s poster child, now
Throw the Grey Goose there in the juice, lames
Wanna hang? Go stare in the noose
They say the beef’s over but I’m unaware of the truce
I’m wearin’ a Artful Dodger Hoody, L.A. Dodger 59-Fifty, yeah
This my city, yeah, I’m so versatile
Throwin’ up W’s even tho it’s commercial now
Baby girl wanna know if im worth her while
Bitch with the emptiest purse, the first to smile
I let her know what that paper do
Chain swangin’ like Mayweather on PayPer View
She said you rockin’ so much ice, I’ma pray for you
I said, whoever rob me, gone need some prayer too
Now…

Verse 2: (Crooked I)

Yeah, shorty saw him comin’ in a glare, I pass by like a giant blur
What she really saw was Tim Duncan in the air
Wasn’t nothin’ but a flyin’ Spur
Gun under chair, I swear that there
Beauty salon trigger, yeah thats hair
Somebody asked, is the LBC dead
Don’t pay attention to the he say, she say
Magazines askin’ me bout my street cred
Can't say a lot, y’all dudes could be feds
All you need to know is that I rock those mics
Nigga I’m so nice that I cop those bikes
With the hot chrome pipes
See me go nuts, doin’ the kinda donuts Cops don’t like
I’m a couple pennies short from havin’ Cents (sense)
Hands on that change you can match the prints

Verse 3: (Crooked I)

Put a bow on the flow, it’s a gift from god
Go against my squad, I’ma lift my ride
When you in the limelight, gotta do the crime right
So, twist my arm, I wrist my job
Call me Young Bump Johnson on that hoodlum shit
In a 645 with a Muslim chick
Since the Quran said to cover her hair
I’ma keep the top up when I push the whip
Stay gangster gutter, you can't fade a brother
I son you like I laid your mother
Then step on stage, watch women of all ages hover
Got the dance floor bouncin’ like it’s made a whooper
Why is that Young Boss? Cause we make hits
This is turn table crack, let the DJ mix
I built my house with them bricks, like Freeway Rick
That’s how I keep throwin’ money on them Freeway chicks

Throw some money in the air 
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