Certified

[Intro] Yeah they ask me why I'm a boss I grew up in the motherfucking gutter homeboy, nothing Gang bangers, drug dealers, hoes, prostitutes Rats, roaches, WIC checks and shit Ya naw mean And I came out that shit with a motherfucking fresh white tee on Necklace shining like neon Boss shit that's what I be on, let's get it Hip Hop Weekly niggas, the quit snitchin' addition Let's go Yeah, sup G Sup Tune[?] It's the motherfucking quit snitching addition These niggas got my stomach sick right now Fucking faggots King of the south what it do [Verse 1: Crooked I] I don't speak around snitches nigga close the door Why you think they real now when they was hoes before Man the streets brought the beef, I never chose the war Semi-automatic weapon that's what those are for Niggas need courage snorting 'til they nose is sore But my gat making them crank that Soulja Boy I shot five, I was 0 for 4 Fifth one hit 'em and did 'em Told you I was known to score With the Wesson cause I was taught life got a dress on Hair weave and press-ons, a bitch that's the lesson Cops pulled me over while I had my other chest on That's a bullet-proof vest, the pigs didn't catch on Want to give me fed time for that infrared nine Put me in a cage, let me age like red wine Haters after my life, I got to protect mine Blind hatred for me because my neck shine Since them coffins are pine I wish a nigga would Like I murdered a Klansmen I kill you in your hood Catch you slipping and peel your wig while you feeling good Keep me off of your head, only a million could Hard cash, I'm blasting your mark ass Paint the town red like art class Lay 'em down dead soon as that car pass Spray 'em wild lead, duck when you see sparks flash I don't play around yeah I know Crips my nigga, I know Bloods I know mafiosos, I know thugs My mama sold weed homey, I know drugs I pushed whips as a kid, I know dubs I know fake hand shakes and cold hugs I know tapped phone lines, I know bugs I know .38 snubs, I know slugs I know snitching son of a bitches get no love [Interlude: Crooked I] Yeah, hold on man Let me cut the beat off for a minute Hey, let me holler at these snitch-made motherfuckers right now There's probably a snitch right next to you right motherfucking now Ya naw mean, informing in your circle and shit Shit make me sick to my motherfucking stomach man That's why C.O.B. is my religion Yo [Verse 2: Crooked I] They got me sick cause they snitching again Breaking the G code, homey this is a sin Act like they your friend but these niggas pretend When I accepted your friendship I pissed in the wind I broke you off Benjamans and hit you with ends You broke the loyalty became a witness for them So I could be sentenced niggas sit in the pen When my niggas catch you slipping they gon' hit you with ten My brother Byron send your pictures to him I want his face mangled, fucked up, missing his chin I know the system wanted to see me dicked in the end The game wasn't designed for real niggas to win Don't want to see a hood nigga triple his gin Cause in the revolution I point my pistol at them Want us to entertain 'em but they didn't intend For niggas to get rich with millions to spend So they send a fake nigga to sit in your den He broke bread with you like this is your kin Don't think he got your back cause you got similar skin He black on the outside, Willie Lynch is within Take a nigga to catch a nigga, they did it again For you coon niggas I don't got a minute to lend I ain't trying to say we all some innocent men But justice for us young ghetto niggas is when Cops been harassing me since I was ten Hell of a way for my relationship with pigs to begin Life is so real catch me sipping this gin Freestyling about this shit, no pencil or pen Quit snitchin'