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Hip Hop Weekly 11 - Boy Looka Here
Artist: Crooked I & The HorseShoe Gang
Song: Boy Looka Here // Go Getta
Produced by: Polow Da Don // The Runners
Appears on:

Intro: (Crooked I)

Hip Hop Weekly, C.O.B., Crooked I, Treacherous
Circle of mothafuckin’ Bosses
I got a request on MySpace for the HorseShoe Gang on a Hip Hop Weekly
You know how we do this shit
We stay true to those who stay true to us
You want it, you got it, you understand me?
I let my niggas shine right in front of me
These other niggas scared to be outshined by boys better than ‘em
I want my boys to be better than me, bitch

Verse 1: (Demetrius Capone)

This cat’s a rap Thriller, packin’ a mack-zilla
Matter of fact I’m strapped like I jacked the strap dealer
Clackin’ the ratchet so stop static like antennas
Imagine Bin Laden / Hitler, I’m that nigga
I’m that killer, killer Attila the cap peeler
I rip Jack then Dracula, then Jack Ripper
With a splash of cash, it’s much of like Zap Picture
That mixture makes Mr. Body-Bag-Zipper
I’m a copycat killer
I’ma copy Kadafi in a hockey mask
You rockin’ a body caps
I’m a Kamikaze crash, so your Maserati pop a rusty snap
Pictures of Mr. Cocky-Rap-Spitter (nigga)
I give a fuck, I get at strippers
Let her lick the dick and act as if I forgot to tip her
In fact I stiff her
This the Dodger Hat, do you copy that
Give me the hottest track and I be back sicker

Verse 2: (Kenny Siegel)

I ruin anatomy, your crew ain’t as bad as me
I’m chewin’ you and your family for spewing insanity
I speak fluid profanity, you can’t censor the flow
Serious raps, sinecure’s the flow
This vandal is bananas when rambling minds 
From scandalous mind, baffling graphics sublime
Patter is cat with bombs, savaging hazardous rhymes 
Factious faggots is dying, packing a ratchet in my jacket
I’m standin’ with iron, ? out of his mind
It’s schizophrenic embitter and savages
I’m, not Mr. Nice Guy, stick ‘em up
I’m Mr. Like-I-Give-A-Fuck – I-Tie-Niggas-Up
Have some fellas send an infant relative missin’
In mella mallim, if he fell in a sink chips
Medellin bridges for Medallion nickels
Bailin’ the henchman hat so low I’m smellin’ brick sick

Verse 3: (Diceman)

When I pull them thangs out
Bullets they rang out
Brat go through your frame
Tearin’ your flesh and veins out
We cause a rain drought
C.O.B. know what I’m talking bout
A reckless I ballin’ll get you stomped the fuck out
My flows is foolish, better yet bananas, bunkers
Or whatever you could think of in your mind that would hunt ya
I’m cold with the verbal’s
My flow corks your mind like some purple
So don’t try to penetrate my circle
We hard as titanium
C.O.B. is a religion so we go kamikaze just like we was Iranians
I’ma tell you what it do
I’m rollin’ with screws loose
Spit a verse sicker than mill do in your Bluetooth
I never let off warning shots
Shoot first and never ask questions when I’m on the block
That’s how us G’s rock
I put ape in your Bathing Ape sweater
Then go ape on niggas that think they tougher than leather

Verse 4: (Julius Luciano)

I cover my face with a Jason mask
Your face is a Jason
To a age cape please make your acquaintance
You can try takin’ evasive action
No way to escape, packin’ like I’m takin’ vacations
My head gone, you could say I misplaced it
With hand-eye coordination hold choppers straight at your braces
This is this crazy narration, no paraphrasing
I’m changing the way I can fed, I’m makin’ a statement
My mental’s intuitive, my bitches is stewardess fly
Who is this, I’m the twisted sick lunatic guy
I do this shit, only few can do it
In the booth a spew it, spit it
Puke it as putrid suage
I Ruger your medulla
Shoot through your youth
And let you lose your fluid
Soon the few lose from my crew is goonish
Julius Luci is Cuban fluent
Huey Newton 2, super human
I’m you with a few improvements
HorseShoe Gang, mothafucka!

Verse 5: (Crooked I)

You fellas got this Acapella dropper confused
I chop you with the same velocity
Propellers on helicopters’ll use
Undercovers never stoppin’ my moves
Check his posture, his speech hella proper
I smell a copper my dude (pig)
Through telescopic optical views I spot ya
Then pop ya balloon
You fuck like a cock in a womb
I’m operatin’ under the moniker Doctor a doom
Inaugurated top goon by the Dodger platoons
Feel me, you soon to see lunacy soon as rifles fire
I go psycho, stupid like Goliath, dude is Michael Myers
When I’m holdin’ a gun
Unload it till I’m the only one like a unicycle tire
Rider, get your ass brapped if you hard
Face clapped past Captain Picard 
Yeah, I got them straps in your yard
That brap make you dance with the stars
Give a damn who you are
Dude I blam you to Mars
Plug ‘em like brand new guitars
Caps shedder tattoos and crack dude apart
Yes y’all, I’m the B.O. double S y’all
Of the whole West y’all, yes y’all
Let’s brawl, let’s crawl
Kevlar vest your best car
Shit I pack crack your chest war
My mind’s a metaphorical oracle
When I’m recordin’ it opens a door to a portal
That makes it explore able for mortals
The journey is historical
To all the corridors of my inner course 
Where war is adorable, you feel me
Where being not hot is unaffordable, you feel me
When you find out them other niggas horrible
Next week…
yo gfunk got the rest of the HHW?

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