Forgive me
[Verse]
If you don't know about my weekly series ask about it
Somebody do it like me, I would have to doubt it
It's like I'm drinking Ex-Lax milkshakes mixed with Hennessy
Getting tipsy, shit on niggas, then laugh about it
A million emcees, rap is crowded
Yet I stand out just like my dick when fat ass around it
Put a hump in my back and pound it, fucking a track
Having sex with beats, what's fucking with that?
The pick of the litter, the piff spitter, fucker I snap
Picture a nigga that get sicker with every other rap
I spew, that's my cue, to show you that I'm matched by few
Glued to the game, attach my crew
And raise the bar to a higher knot
Set the fiber optics in the mic wires on fire
Watch how I inspire writers to buy a Glock
Rock designer tops and diamonds
Grinding with the iron tucked by the crotch
Keep in mind we can buy the block
Whoever try to stop us get dropped
Beef is nine o'clock (why?)
Cuz that's when it's time to find a nine to cock
On second hand, tick me off, I slide your pops
(Yeah slide that nigga)
Give that old man hoes, my program's code, make hoes out of Conan phones
Mad cuz I buy carrots like no man knows
But these karats are froze, like a snowman's nose
I'm on the project steps, spitting till I get lock jaw
Like a Pyrex project chef, homie I rock raw
Will you be better than me? Hey that's God's call
He tried to hit you with talent, but you thought it was dodgeball
I'm coming for niggas, creeping past your watch dog
I'm in your house, please pass your watch dawg
Show me your safe, before I blast shots off
Crush the rocks, all the salt from rap's block boss
Illest alive, I don't care who you name my dude
Do your thing, I chew through your gang
And then my views shoot through your veins
Until you have the same views as me, we cuckoo insane
Know why I'm this hood, but know why I'm this good
Duplicate me, only a chick having my kid could
I'm a A&R's dream
Street cred and skills and ice, make your favorite star bling
That's on my dead auntie, her name was Charlene
If you ain't a boss, you can't play on our team
You kids can't see me, I'm a rated R screen
Took the hook from Wu-Tang's "C.R.E.AM." and made it our theme
C.O.B. you know the line I push
Hello corporate America, bye bye kush
But I'm still connected, I make your tight eyes gush
If you got the right price, might I buy thy bush?
They say Crooked kept protecting his hands
Buy pounds with his record advance
Invested in his own company, now he got executive plans
Big balls, nothing less in his pants
Should be on his seventh record, but you can never question his fans
They ride with him till the death of the man
He can ghostwrite for you, and the rest of your fam
Swift with ink, he can pin you quicker than a wrestler can
Man, they all know, that I'ma spit from the heart
Whoever listen and start dissing is missing the art
Go back to week one, play the shit in the dark
Make your way to this week, beats I'm ripping apart
My intuition and inner vision is sharp
My lyricism give 'em a spark
Yeah this stupid nigga is smart
I'm a walking thesaurus, I body the beat, I cough in the chorus
I'm Blair Witch, and you lost in the forest, you scared bitch
The boss is enormous, and my show, that's an awesome performance
Y'all soft as informants
Last week, you thought a rapper was close to me
This week, I'ma put him where he supposed to be
So far behind me, that dudes a ghost to me
Don't even see him, what's funny is dude knows the B-I-Z
I'll serve him at the drop of a dime
Fuck a written, off the top of my mind
Cock diesel, Crooked is in his Optimus Prime
In ten minutes I thought of this rhyme, my bottomless mind is too deep
You can't fuck with me, I'm too street
See you next week, new beat, new heat, yeah