Вершы: Crooked I. Uh-oh.
(feat. Silva Satin)
Uh-oh nigga
Bring it
This is what happens when you bring the orchestra to the ghetto (live
orchestra)
Yea, is ya'll ready for this?
Bein' the ghetto representative I am
I'm guaranteed to slam
When I drops that whoopty wop bam
Somebody stop me from poppin
I'll be god damned
I'm at the chop shop gettin my drop top slammed
I'm hotter than a skillet
Grabbin' the mic to kill it
Pillage your village
With the illest lyrics
I feel as though my skill is the realest asset
That I possess
It's Crooked I takin' over the west, yes
I'm at the Benz dealership, cell phone and a glock
Straight outta the ghetto lookin' like I dont belong on the lot
But I'ma cop one, drop one
Then I'ma smash through LA county
Jump out that V6 with house shoes and brownies
Flossin' on the one time
Money burnin like a vampire in sunshine (burn)
For those who dont know what I said
Game I'm spillin'
It's like the ceilin'
Over your head
[CHORUS:]
It's the C-R double uh-O uh-O K-E-D
Rockin' the whole sha-oh uh-oh
It's the C-R double uh-O uh-O K-E-D
Rockin the whole sha-oh uh-oh
Uh-oh, uh-oh, uh-oh, uh-oh
The prolific writer inside of this pacific sider
Won't let me write up
Simple hate in spite of the money I might acquire
I gotta be tighta
Than any thug that recite a
Yea my pockets mighta get wider
But see I'm still a RIDA
I slide up on hoes who be clubbin'
'Cause I don't see nothin wrong
With shovin' a muffin up in your oven
The lovin' after the huffin and the puffin
You can choose, I ain't hand-cuffin
Baby I'm reppin from the W-E-S
Wait a minute... T-S
I-D-E-S we get ready to B.S.
P.S. we fresh for '99 you suckas
No more hittin' licks and trippin' off these fuckers
Now that ski-mask is strictly for Aspen
I used to crack crews like statues in Agnes
Now I got 'em slam dancin' like Marilyn Manson fans
And throwin' a tantrum to the anthem
[CHORUS]
Known Crooked I comin' steadily, heavily
In felony they tellin' me my pedigree
It better be incredibly high fidelity
See, let it be known hypothetically
Step to me?
Wrong theoretically
Your head will be flown, flown
I'm backstage in the zone
It's 10:54
Six minutes Crooked I and you're on
Uh-uh on first I do my s-s-song
Then I take a lady h-h-home
[CHORUS]
...And there you have it
Thats what happens when the T to the I-L
Connects with Mr. Crooked I
You see us comin?
Uh-oh
Uh-oh nigga
Bring it
This is what happens when you bring the orchestra to the ghetto (live
orchestra)
Yea, is ya'll ready for this?
Bein' the ghetto representative I am
I'm guaranteed to slam
When I drops that whoopty wop bam
Somebody stop me from poppin
I'll be god damned
I'm at the chop shop gettin my drop top slammed
I'm hotter than a skillet
Grabbin' the mic to kill it
Pillage your village
With the illest lyrics
I feel as though my skill is the realest asset
That I possess
It's Crooked I takin' over the west, yes
I'm at the Benz dealership, cell phone and a glock
Straight outta the ghetto lookin' like I dont belong on the lot
But I'ma cop one, drop one
Then I'ma smash through LA county
Jump out that V6 with house shoes and brownies
Flossin' on the one time
Money burnin like a vampire in sunshine (burn)
For those who dont know what I said
Game I'm spillin'
It's like the ceilin'
Over your head
[CHORUS:]
It's the C-R double uh-O uh-O K-E-D
Rockin' the whole sha-oh uh-oh
It's the C-R double uh-O uh-O K-E-D
Rockin the whole sha-oh uh-oh
Uh-oh, uh-oh, uh-oh, uh-oh
The prolific writer inside of this pacific sider
Won't let me write up
Simple hate in spite of the money I might acquire
I gotta be tighta
Than any thug that recite a
Yea my pockets mighta get wider
But see I'm still a RIDA
I slide up on hoes who be clubbin'
'Cause I don't see nothin wrong
With shovin' a muffin up in your oven
The lovin' after the huffin and the puffin
You can choose, I ain't hand-cuffin
Baby I'm reppin from the W-E-S
Wait a minute... T-S
I-D-E-S we get ready to B.S.
P.S. we fresh for '99 you suckas
No more hittin' licks and trippin' off these fuckers
Now that ski-mask is strictly for Aspen
I used to crack crews like statues in Agnes
Now I got 'em slam dancin' like Marilyn Manson fans
And throwin' a tantrum to the anthem
[CHORUS]
Known Crooked I comin' steadily, heavily
In felony they tellin' me my pedigree
It better be incredibly high fidelity
See, let it be known hypothetically
Step to me?
Wrong theoretically
Your head will be flown, flown
I'm backstage in the zone
It's 10:54
Six minutes Crooked I and you're on
Uh-uh on first I do my s-s-song
Then I take a lady h-h-home
[CHORUS]
...And there you have it
Thats what happens when the T to the I-L
Connects with Mr. Crooked I
You see us comin?
Uh-oh
Crooked I