I'm a G

[Intro] Crooked I, C.O.B Circle of Bosses Hip Hop Weekly, number thirty-four Gotta be a G 'till the day that I die Ha-ha, man Mac Capone you still with me? Shouts out to Italy's finest Ruby, Nasty Norris C.O.B. Torano, what it do? Grime Minister, what's poppin'? Bilal in Scotland, yo [Verse 1: Crooked I] I think I'm 'bout to help you niggas out And write a This is How You Spit book Rap for Dummies, money take a quick look I run shit nigga this big Crook I lay down the law and order You don't like it, suck my Dick Wolf Who is Dick Wolf? He created Law and Order So where the pounds at? Oh they coming across the border But mic rockin's in my genes I drop it for my niggas on the block who got a pocket full of dreams Only want to clock a little cream Without popping a rocket launcher with the beams Or getting profit from them schemes We was taught to slang weed or serve the 'caine Pack big things, let the burner flame Make niggas bigger than Ving Rhames dance, do the Rick James Like you hurricane, we murder mane, no er'thang I'm from the berserk Circle gang You ain't heard of pain, cut your vertebrae Blast out, I'm the first to aim You'll be ass out like Prince pants in Purple Rain Blow your back out, bury you out back Back now that's a dirty shame Just the way that us thugs live We been starving since young kids, our stomachs touch ribs All we wanted was sick whips and to live in plush cribs Trying to deal with the gutter, my niggas puff puff give Some niggas [?], others kill a whole bottle in one swig Under dig you know what it is And wack niggas make us pull out the pistol and shoot the stereo You think you sick pussy, cause your flow's too venereal Every week Crooked dropping new material A Long Beach nigga pushing a Coupe through Imperial Yo' chain is platinum, mine is all diamonds All from raw rhyming, ya'll should call Bryman Change ya'll's career, fuck off, a boss shinin' 'Posed to be a thug, you soft as Paul Simon I should be Michael, I'm off the wall grinding I'm the best shooter so I'm hog the ball Brian I ain't on the shoulders of no giant I'm looking out the window of the Lear The giants see me flying by 'em I am, the best different strategies I try 'em Cause if you can't say try you can't say triumph They though I was dead, thought the West best failed 'Til they see me on the cover of that XXL What Jay say, let that bitch breathe If she ain't ride or die, let that bitch breeze Let her pick up and leave Have another diva on my arm, call that a trick up my sleeve Guns might hiccup and sneeze That toast, love lactose, that's why it's a stick-up for cheese The evolution of a hustler I evolved and found a way to supply the ever elusive customer I strategize new interactive marketing To pinpoint different parts of the map that I'm targeting I works harder than fools I'm already smarter than Crooked killed a cop, go tell the governor pardon him Pardon me I'm on the fast track I'm from the 80s where niggas used to keys of crack right in they ass crack Too much weight on my shoulders, I'm having flashbacks Too many burdens for this rapper to wear a backpack Unless it's packed with gloves, mask and a black strap Lift the mattress up and that's that I want them rubber band cash stacks I can imagine what would happen (my nigga brap brap) if you don't pass that See I'm the last of a different breed I don't compare myself to nobody else, I'm in a different league I'm in a limousine crawling like a centipede Sipping Hennessy while my niggas chief sigga weed All I think about is what the fuck my niggas need Need me to rap all night as if this was Christmas Eve I'm from the Circle of Bosses, the C-O buh-buh B From here to Oak Cliff they know me as jucka G