Crooked I - The Kite lyrics

rate me

[Intro:]

Yeah, this is a kite goin' to all my homeboys

locked up in the penitentiary federal and state

We ain't forgot about you, my life long wish

is for all my real niggaz to feel me

Yeah, ya know, I gotta put it on the streets man

That's what I live and die for - the streets, yeah ..

[Verse 1:]

Out on them streets I put my life on the line

Between these sheets I put my life in them lines

Crooked reciting these rhymes

Givin' sight to the blind

In the dark my recital will shine light in ya mind

Like God cipher divine

I'm a fight for my kind

Nigga, surviving the grind

With a sniper designed, rifle aligned right for ya mind

I target a man

I was thuggin' before I became a marketing plan

Cover my heart with my hand, and vow

To keep it real, can't [?] ya [?]

Target the hearts of the fan, like the archer is part of the plan

Man, my loved ones who restin' in peace

They couldn't peak at the peak I was destined to reach

Through expressing a speech

I'm the essence of each O.G. before me

They gave me lessons to teach

I'm Pablo, you can't measure the reach

A cop-ho, fuck gestapo, arrest the police

Death to the beast

A renegade menace, niggaz witness the birth

Every listener's a prisoner, til I finish the verse

Every minute I'm spittin, you sittin' in a ministers church

You niggaz is bitches, I'm militant, I'm liftin' ya skirt

Society's prejudice, fuck it, all hope is lost

To piss 'em off, I do what you call "over-floss"

That's the reason the Benz got all chrome exhaust

They hate a ghetto nigga, cigar-smokin' boss

I'm crazy! Put me on a therapist couch

I've seen stomach shots leave a nigga wearin' a pouch

I've seen people's parents parish for careless amounts

So what's the starin' and the swearin' about?

This unfair character 'll stick his derringer square in ya arrogant mouth

I'm darin' ya, coz you apparently doubt

That I will merrily bury ya, without care when the sheriffs is out

And go that devout terrorist route

You box, I shoot glocks, we just don't compare in a bout

A shot caller

I'm airin' you out

A boss baller

Crooked I, you know I'm wearing Cartier in a drought

We live from ghetto America's house

Where the police get a paid vacation for kickin' niggaz ass

So 3rd strikers see the cop and let the trigger blast

There's so much pain in a nigga's past

We finna eat til we sick of cash

Me and my killaz finna mash for real, til we open them doors

It's young boss, sincerely yours! (sincerely yours)

[Hook:]

P.S. - Real niggaz know they gotta grind

B.S. - Bullshit will get you left behind

E.S. - East Side ride everytime

P.S. - Real niggaz know they gotta grind

[Outro:]

Yeah, it's a kite goin' to all my homeboys in the penitentiary

I ain't forgot about you

Yeah, revolutionary - yeah ... but gangsta

The federal crime bill is full of pages to keep us in cages

The government got a plan for you niggaz, you better keep your eyes open

yeah, ya know

I see you rappers on TV, you grease monkeys

You mothafuckers greased up with all them tattoos and ya shirt off

You point a gun at me, but not a C.O. - P

Yeah, you soft as cotton

East Side Long Beach - we revolutionary

We revolutionary... but gangsta