Crooked I - Sweet lyrics

rate me

[Intro]

They talking to me like..

They talking to me, right?

They saying..

[Verse 1]

Ye shall be blessed if thou worketh

So for fifty two weeks, I showed you my style perfect

Once in a while, one of the realest niggas shall surface

I’m C.O.B., plus I slaughtered all the house verses

It’s foul circus, I vow to hold it down

It’s my proud purpose

When the crowd purchase my sound, make yours sound malnourished

My mouth curses, please excuse the views

Only four letter word I never use is “lose”

Slaughterhouse headlines, yeah my crew’s the news

Domestic violence and pet names, yeah we abusing booths

Better store the metaphors

Nigga, remember these similies

So when you say you’re better off yelling — nigga, please

By any means necessary I became legendary on the Internet

And my next block is fucking your desktop

Like having sex with a secretary — you get it, Jack?

My intellect is a ball, brains given to me by teachers

Who predicted I’d be homeless bumming a cigarette — huh

You got me mixed like the letters when a dyslexic send a text

This is where my destiny interjects

In the ‘jects where the gats bang

I’m fresh off B.E.T, but looking like I crack slang

What up, homie?

I think I’m living like the bosses deserve

Cause I’m the C.E.O. of my balls and my word

I’m burying beats in the cemetery dirt

Abusing the music like the producers should’ve sent it to me first

Tracks get shat on like toilets get sat on

Beats get spat on, Long Beach hat on

The top five, least I see myself inside

Cause who fucking with us — “us” being me, myself, and I?

Yeah, I’m sending rappers to the afterlife

You arrogant cowards — you a dick and a pussy, you a hermaphrodite

I’m something soft in this game, that’s what they acting like

Nigga, I’m from the gutter where a G.E.D. is a bragging right

And some nigga named Marvin describes the appetite

A sea on a horse, a hundred watt bulb

That’s my description when I grab a mic

Cause I’m high as a satellite

You haters get your chatter right

Young’un, I been here a while

I could’ve been a quitter a long time ago

Bitter a long time ago

But if success is a bitch, Crooked is gon find the ho

She can hide, I’m seek her like “Eeny-miny-mo”

Too many rap verbals around you dummies

I’m like them rubber bands on a hundred grand

I rap circles around you, money