*incomplete

What up?

Yeah, what up, O?

It's Crooked I, homie

C.O.B

Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah

Yeah

I let the shots spray simultaneously as the cars pulling up

Give a victim the Heimlich, see if he cough bullets up

*cough, cough* I'm hood as fuck

When Crooked recite, a Pulitzer prize is not good enough

I'm full of surprises, look in my eyes

I'm hoody disguised, your pussy despise me, we can put 'em up

I levitate when the mic's near

Walk two inches above concrete, that's why the call 'em Nike Airs

I regulate and never fight fair

Beat you senseless on the concrete, I'm your worst nightmare

This Young Boss should be locked in the cage

I spit like I'm the offspring of Rakim and Rage

Even when I'm rockin' the stage

I'm imaging each audience member gettin' shot with a gauge

I kill crowds, still spillin' the ilest vowels

Séance music, even the dance spirits hear it now

Braa, yeah, I'm quick with the reach

Get the liquid to leak right out of your nitwit's physique

I'm sick with the speech

Take a flying leap off a building, that's how hard my shit hits the streets

Lyrical god, your flow's unholy

Your rhymes defilin' more pages than Mark Foley

Got beef, you better show me your heart, homie

On hard, only those who glow in the darkknow me

Use it

When we penetrate your headphone