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Long Beach to Brooklyn Lyrics
Long Beach to Brooklyn Lyrics

Ima a BK brawler, Marcy Projects hallway loiterer
Pure coke coppa, get your order up
I’ll bring the Baltimore in the four door explorer
But its gona cost you more if I gotta get em to Florida
Rucker game attender, with Bent’ parked on the sidewalk
With the ten plates on the bender
I aint hard to find you catch me front in center
At the Knick game, big chain in all my splenda
Next to Spike, if you pan left to right
I own matters that square catch me at the vike??
With Cam, once again, if you pan left to plight??
Itll be the man that write cheques with the hand that don’t write
I go off the head when I rambling on the mic
And I go all prepared when Im scrambling at night
And it was off is head I brought hammers to the fight
But we from New York City, right Cam?

[Crooked I – Hook]
And you’ve got nine lives, just like little cat??
Ill take all nine of em from you quick as I grip a gat
You witness an applause when I spit the sickest rap
Hear niggas gun clappin when you getting wack

[Crooked I]
See Ima gangsta, my fuckin enemies couldn’t damage
I grew a face in the kinda anger I couldn’t manage
I got them God given talent that’s why Crooked took advantage
The crook has vanished, Im hungry, dog, lookin famish
I shook and fan it?? The scene but now Im back nigga
One pull of this trigga will make you spillin mad liquor
I calculated my moves to make my math quicka
I rap slicka, to stack figgas, the track rippa
Its California, Crooked west coast sky scraper
You faggots aint nothing but maggots on my fly paper
I come menace the loan heist, I mean the sly caper
And my paper, buried under five acres
I know they meaning them questions, that niggas cant answer
Gun’ll flip you around like a breakdancer
Got the will to survive, man I could shake cancer
Down to rob me a bank, like Oaklands ate Panthers
Im OG with it and no he didn’t
Walk across the Source awards stage, rockin a Long Beach fitted
In a coupe with a coach seats in Long Beach with my chrome feet spinning
And a quarter piece to show hes winning – Im so gangsta

[Crooked I]
Its over…or is it?

Do you know how many rappers that this boss inspired
Back up off this squire, you can all expire
When my dogs get fired up, its Crooked I from the lost empire
My glock spit fire, man your jaws can get wired shut, what
Start up the controversy, I rap with a vest under my dodger jersey
My infamous spit, finishes and diminishes killas
This menace is quick, sentences finna rip lyricists
Kick limitless venomous lyrics from the genesis
Give witnesses hemorrhages, scrimmage a big nemesis
Me, bash you, crack you with the back of a atchoo
Faggots’ll nap exactly where maggots and rats do
In fact Im mini-mackin any catch and attach to
Brap-Bap, the back of your hat is a package of Ragu
Youre talking to bosses, wait a minute
We take hostages lock em in closets
Til they all sick and nauseous from oxygen lossage
I box em coffins, im toxic and talking
The glocks fina pause it, stalk for you blocks
Til your lost and exhausted – Holocaust it!

My rhyme flow’ll reach yo ass and drill you and kill you
In 5…4…3…2…1…Nigga


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