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Crooked I - Boss Biter
Artist: Crooked I
Song: Boss Biter
Produced by:
Appears on: St. Valentines Day Bossacre

Intro: (Crooked I)

St. Valentines Day Bossacre!
Boss, yea haha
Couple of haters out there
One in particular
He’s a real bitch, you heard me? Haha

Verse 1: (Crooked I)

That nigga’s a bitch, why fear homes
I’m Bossy, like the wife of Mr. Nasir Jones
My songs; all I wanna hear in my earphones
Cause when I turn the radio on, I hear clones (who?)
You bite my shit, you gets no love
Pac spread that Thug shit along with the Bone Thugz
I spread that Boss shit, you niggas want slugs
I been doin’ this since ’95, you niggas’ on drugs (what?)
Stormed from the Underground, took it to the mainstream
Everything I say, heard that nigga say the same thing
When I catch you slippin’ I’ma let my pretty thang ring
After take your pockets like them mothafuckas Gang-Green
I drop Young Boss, the West in charge
The XXL magazine gave me a Xtra Large
It’s a classic mixtape, that’s what some say
Wonder if they know I recorded this shit in one day
Ready for action, my pistol poppin’ off for gun play
Flyer than any contraption hoppin’ off the runway
Hotter than a sunray
Nigga with a Attitude, like I was a Young Dre
Crooked is the one, aye
You fuck around, let my gun spray
Married to my Smith & Wesson, that’s my Beyonce
Even Matthew knows a thug spray still
Turn your lights out, quicker than a unpaid bill
Throw them pipes out in the river like once they kill
Circle of Bosses, doin’ what the fuck they feel (C.O.B.)
Even if it mean a nigga gotta face a bid
Gun smokin’ more than any Emphazima patient did
When I’m beefin’, tell the preacher he should pray for kids
And tell Chief Pratton the streets ain't even save for pigs
Yeah, my lower self starts thinkin’ with his evil mind
Even though my higher self know I can help lead the blind
Two sides in me in one body, so we combine
Where both parts agree, it’s logical to keep a nine
And creep low like a Snake, the pistol’s the rattle
I Alaska you rappers who be livin’ a battle
6 months with no sun, mean you live in my shadow
Slaughtered for my third meal, nigga no different from cattle
Eastside Long Beach, I’m goin’ hard for my town
Sittin’ on top of my money, feet far from the ground
But my skill level got me on a march for the crown
Shit you pitchin’ is in the business the part from the mound
Now, choppin’ you niggas, naw, that ain't hard work
Why you think I got the chainsaw on the artwork
So I can slice your chest open and watch your heart squirt
I’m layin’ iron on these marks like a starred shirt
You mothafuckas ain't pushin’ the line right
You washed up, now you just a whore for the limelight  (yes)
I can close my eyes and see right through you with my mind sight
Kill them phonies when the time’s right
I’m Crooked I, the one your favorite rapper’s scared to mention
Cause I’m out of their dimension
I’m the air to the chair with henchmen
Intentions prepare for vengeance
Bitch niggas should wear hair extensions, yeah
This is my introduction to the US
You don’t know my name? just address me as the New West

Outro: (Crooked I)

Cash over Bitches, never Hoes over Dough
On the smash for my riches, got niggas to overthrow
There’s some haters on the Westcoast, some of ya are cancer
New West let’s go, Crooked is the answer

Yeah, youknowImean, Nik Bean, DJ Felli Fel, haha Crooked I, C.O.B.
Happy Valentines Day!  It’s the mothafuckin’ Bossacre, yeah
I mean, we cut niggas hearts out, haha, New West or nothin’

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