Crooked I - Death Rizzo lyrics

rate me

[Verse 1] Hold up... I'm just coming to blow ya mind with the flow Know what? Niggas is hatin' cuz I signed with tha Row So what? Y'all been tryin' to stop mine on the low I climb in the fo' Let the glock pop... nine in a row If I catch you after eleven I'ma have to point an acurate weapon At your acurate legend And clap you with seven I'm crazier than servin' crack to a reverend Plus, I ruin your career like if the news camera catch you with Tevin Ugh! Just gimme your rightful invision I stiffle your mission Swing and hit niggas hard as motorcycle collisions Watch your ass, like you Michael in prison There's so many weak wick-whack Recycle-rap niggas I'm liable to diss 'em Even though, they scared of testin' me now Quit playin' games, you "Got Beef?" "Say My Name," like you Destiny's Child First off all, let's get a few things straight: This Death Row and I'm the new teammate Nigga, your crew seen fate We drop it fast Watchin' bodies get carried like shoppin' bags I ain't seen y'all up in the 'hood since niggas was rockin' Shaq's Standin' by this hot nigga, your s'pose to burn Lets make a toast to Death Row's return Ya heard? [Chorus] Act like you knizzo, nigga this Death Rizzo Niggas throw ya hands up, bitches get on the flizzo Bangin' on you bustas in the two-triple-izzo Kickin' in the dizzo And that's so for shizzo (2 times) [Verse 2: Crooked I] Oh... you niggas thought it was over and done? I told you a soldier would come Run for both of your guns While you got that chronic smoke in your lungs Open your mail, there's a picture inside, of me... chokin' your son You're broke than a bum Need to rap over some fatter samples You Roger Troutman... out-settin' a bad example In fact, should of had you gaffled, in back of the tabernacle When you was tryin' to have ??? sex from that tramp, with the adam's apple I never understood why they was hatin' on Crook' It's all just good 'cause the whole 'hood was waitin' on Crook' I don't battle rap groups I put switches on Cadilac Coupes Nigga, that's how the strap shoots I still... beat the hell outta fat dukes While you cowards act cute I teach these rap, soup-eatin' niggas how to stack loot Gats to tuck Can't tell you cats enough The first thug label in the world, that's wussup... It's Death Rizzo [Chorus] [Verse 3] Yo... we still crackin' and smashin' for some real action I'm still the best thing to happen to L.A. since Phil Jackson So all of you marks tuck in your chain Or on your next video shoot, you'll be be lookin' like you just got jumped in the game For the Row... it's nothin' to bang Fuckin' ya game Thuggin' the same Lovin' the game You catch a slug in your brain! You'll be alive at 5:25 and dead by 5:30 Call me a trashman beacuse I always ride dirty We draw crews and clickin' them It's all cool... Cause y'all fools is all too soft We harder than law school curriculums Stickin' up 64 victims a minute Twistin' ya minute Balistic off the most viscious hylosingenics invented I drop a line Rock a rhyme Shock ya mind Cock a nine Stop ya time Rob ya blind... Rhyme 'til the block is mine You can't hit Crooked I; you sound dope cause them niggaz that wrote your shit... [bit Crooked I] This Death Rizzo [Chorus]