I'll Still Kill

[Verse 1: Crooked I] I'm from the Eastside of Long Beach Hustle on these cold streets C.O.B. is mafia like a kiss on both cheeks Pigs know what it is, fuck the police They killed my homeboy, no justice no peace I need a C section, I'm overdue four weeks I cut myself out of the belly of that known beast I'm on the Eastside rolling with my OGs Niggas in the Beach love me Fuck with me they gon' squeeze Gangsta music, play it in the dark while you're drinking It make ya do shit, have a gang banger anxious to feud with you Empty chambers to it then blame the way they produced it, too sick I should get an award for niggas I floored To my niggas in prison, snitches should live in the morgue Then I scoop up they bitches and whores My dick big as a sword stabbing bitches as thick as Melyssa Ford Yeah I got the Bentley Coupe kitted And I put it in the Beach before you know who did it The windows too tinted, they wonder who's in it Wait a few minutes, it's Mr. Dodger blue fitted You don't believe me watch my DVD I'm so Ice Cube I could have wrote for Eazy-E I'm so Ice-T I should fuck with Evil E The whole West Coast is Crooked, he's a G A California boss like Tookie Williams Fuck Arnold Schwarzenegger cause the pussy killed him Watching it on TV with my homegirl Made us get a tattoo that said "Fuck the whole world" Some MCs you call the best rapper ever Say I'm a legend, Crooked but yeah you rap better Kick some more motherfucking drug acapella I say I'm so sick with the birds that I'm salmonella My booster bitch from the Bronx, her name Annabella She give me so much Versace I call her Donatella I need Prada, that's all that I gotta tell her I can afford it but it's hella expensive being an honest fella That's why I sit on the block, this is the plot Listen to Pac, slang the medicinal pot Some of my niggas detoxing like Bishop Lamont Then they say alright fuck it, let me get what you got I'm trying to ride like Russell, getting richer nigga 29 hustles but when you got side hustles Cops want to kill you, niggas like trouble So I keep pieces like 29 puzzles C.O.B. for life, we some rich thugs When we make it rain it ain't strip clubs Make it rain bullets, I'm talking big slugs West Coast to death, that's why I get love (x2)