Información de la canción En esta página puedes encontrar la letra de la canción Crook County, artista - Twista.
Fecha de emisión: 24.09.1998
Restricciones de edad: 18+
Idioma de la canción: inglés
Crook County |
In the Chi, it’s kill or be killed, hussle or die |
You gotsta take the pie, momma didn’t lie |
Look in my eyes you see the realness |
The nine makes you feel this |
The pain that I’m going through 'til I’m sitting on millions |
My minds on that paper, wishin' upon a caper |
I need to stack now, I’ll repent for my sins later |
When I’m living greater, the mind state of a Westside native |
It’s sick in the head, dodgin' Feds everyday |
See me load the AK, watch 'em run when we spray |
Get the fuck up out my way and for pray that this pistol play |
Cause when I’m heated I’m gunning 'til there’s nothing in sight |
So cancel Christmas muthafucka, fuck you and your life |
Niggas in my mob is too suave |
We ride hundred G cars, in it like the world is ours |
Don’t disrespect or get your chest split like cigars |
In this county of crooks tryin' to avoid jail bars |
But it’s so hard to make cheese especially |
If you ain’t got no Ph.D. or connect on phat keys |
See mobstability is for niggas with nothing to lose |
Going psycho from this drama you go through paying dues |
I get a buck in your side tryin' to hussle for a ride |
Or hittin' the block to find out one of your guys just died |
So don’t come to the Chi, it’s just risking your health |
Cause K-Town niggas’ll bomb on that ass like a stealth |
In the county of crooks: gangbangers, killers and slangers |
With judges be quick to hang us homies and strangers |
No bluffin', we bustin' |
Like a kamikaze, watch our bodies come up |
War (?) then it’s on, now we gon' strap up, what’s up |
Our county’s so crooked, Psycho Drama invented the style |
Then damn near everybody took it and passed it around |
Now these muthafuckas all look and see cause we puttin' it down |
And ain’t no sooner or later, the world gon' realize they fakin' |
Then snatch they tapes of the shelves and break 'em, eliminate 'em |
Just as fast as Creator’s Way can create shit |
Now they all on some hation, just like them nigga |
Like ain’t nobody done a thing |
But we run a reason around these bitches |
The more tapes we make the more they all go broke, so fuck 'em |
If it ain’t no love then it ain’t none |
If it is, then nigga then say something |
Cause more of this beats gon' stomp and keep on stompin' |
And Drama make that solemn promise |
That shorty flyin' all on niggas' business |
From a lyrical Crook County, look around, you found me |
I must’ve been bad to the bone, get the mask and the chrome |
This shot gotta die from a blast to the dome |
Nigga, Motha Fuck a Ouija board |
I receive my blessings from G’s and Lords, nine-millies and swords |
For the art of war niggas, must’ve found breathin' bored |
Tellin' me to look into your eyes, all I see is a bitch |
Saw Krayzie in New Orleans scary vic |
Talkin' 'bout you was lovin' my shit |
Hit the bud and got sick on that shit-talkin odyssey mumblin' r&b |
You can keep the apology, you done tried to dishonor me |
Kill the Hoes of the Harmony |
Just when you thought it was safe |
The Bone niggas 'bout to get slaughtered and raped |
I can slow down and audit the tape |
Y’all bigger than all y’all who thought it was fake |
Now watch four-fee's on the stage, bleed from the braids |
Die on the first on the month, cause it’s worse than the blunt |
Why would you compete to be doomed, now you gon' see Eazy-E soon |
Feel the boom of the reprecussion, cause the reefer’s still rushin' |
When I reach and start bustin' |
I’m a Bone Crusher, crook county or nothin |
Ain’t no bluffin' |