Crooked I - Crook N Porter lyrics

rate me

Get ready! Mister Porter!

Come on! Predator shit!

Got me Nick Senior let me tell you what the man’s bout

I don’t dress red and talk funny to stand out

You pushing quarters, petty hustlers get ran out

Put your quarter back in your pocket unless your damn fault

True vision I ride around on a fool mission

Getting away my nutrition my dew listen

The tools hitting, yeah I keep that wig split up

Under my cap like a...when my dew’s missing

Green pieces of paper, we trace from Jamaica

16 bars, 16 keys and a scraper

These are the things with a street GC when he made ya

Tell the chef to pop a dough, free season my gaiter

Yeah I kick a flow off the loud

Then I flow off the dome just to throw off the crowd

My nigger in his 30s, ain’t no more hopes allowed

Show off my smell!

A gorilla looking to eating a banana in my Range Rover

Nobody smell the pheromones from a laying over

Ain’t no I in team, but there’s two eyes in we

When we go black ops, nigger game over

Kill’em all until nothing is left for me

I do this while I’m chilling with the cousin of death

Go from Wu Tang I ain’t fucking with meth

My crew slang keep that under your breath, we move things

Move at top speed to the top week

Not being serious thinking that you can stop me

I don’t do what’s popular, I overlook you

Like good view of the city through some new binoculars

You getting money you can mob with us

Flashy like a shooter between two photographers

Still they call the security when corpse floats in

I’m only just a deep thinker dressed in wolf clothes and

I got a pose but my wrist looks frozen

For me in death’s door getting pushed open

Funny how a hater wanna stop a nigger shine

Make me wanna grab the Glack and pop it in his mind

Instead I’m a poor shot popping with some long arms

Sipping as vodka strong as your time

God forgive us king so I ...

So Imma hit the grind until the top because it’s time

See I’m confident the competition’s popping in the line

Not to my face say it to my back

Cause I’m ahead of you whack niggers, blame it on the fact

Your paper get jammed up, blame it on the facts

And everything hanging on the racks

I used to reach out to my armor get tired

I ain’t reaching out no more, that all transpired

As a matter of fact this entire song is coughing inspired

Drawn to the fire you fell off, you lost your desire

Call Alzheimer, forgot the last off the roll

G shot niggers all kind of small timers

This tune is an open wound to a salt miner

COB we a few good men like Rob Reiner

That’s why them hoes be on us when we would miss the port

I told we getting head or tail you simple quarter

The best rappers alive, from 5 to number 1

If I ain’t on the bottom, then niggers switch the order

The press is hip-hoping there but it’s rock

And dress as you got the message from the

Come on!

Predator shit!

Come on!