Dynasty 4 Life

Lyrics

[Intro: Crooked I] (New shit) Yeah What up my niggas Uh, uh, uh yeah, uh, uh gangsta Uh, uh, uh yeah, uh, uh gangsta (I always wanted to do that) Ladies and gentlemen (Uh, uh, uh, yeah, uh, uh, gangsta) Right about now (Uh, uh, uh, yeah, uh, uh, gangsta) I'd like to introduce to you... Crooked I (Uh, uh, uh, yeah, uh, uh, gangsta) Mannie Fresh, this shit hot, nigga (Uh, uh, uh, yeah, uh, uh, gangsta) It's ya boy, Crooked (Woo) [Verse 1] Crooked'll take off on ya quicker than Bum Fights Shove a knife in ya young lung pipes The Desert Eagle will eat you in one bite It don't have to become night We can have a gun fight in the sunlight I'm livin' like I got more than one life Drinkin' Hpnotiq till it induce one hell of a vomit Pop shit, my guns blaze like the tail of a comet Ghetto ebonics, yellow rocks settled in onyx I squeeze metal, you'll never be on my level, I promise Straight blast, niggas get knocked off their Kawasaki The inventors of brake pads couldn't figure out how to stop me I slide up on you and sock you like we was playing hockey A troubled child, even Gaddafi wouldn't adopt me I'm rockin' XL Magnums ain't the only reason I'm cocky Bomb ya squad like Hank Shocklee, niggas can't stop me When I'm rappin, major shit is about to happen Like when an automatic MAC-10 is clappin' a police captain Ease back then, I'm just tryin' to be rich Do what you gotta do, my nigga This dynasty, bitch! [Chorus] It's dynasty for life My niggas is trife We deep in the game The west ain't the same It's dynasty for life My niggas is trife (Dynasty) We pushin' the line Gotta stay on the grind It's dynasty for life (Yeah) My niggas is trife (Yeah) We deep in the game The west ain't the same It's dynasty for life (Mama's Boy) My niggas is trife (The LP, nigga) We pushin' the line Gotta stay on the grind (C'mon) It's dynasty for life [Verse 2] Yeah We rock white T-shirts with Glocks under Do not slumber, we take your watch from ya The barrel of this Glock will pop thunder How we get away with the murder, that's what the cops wonder Speedin' bullets travelin' in them upper mach numbers A long hot summer, the number one stunna In a hot, hot, hummer Run away from this gunner The type of nigga that keep his chips official Hollow tips rip your middle Quick to twist your gristle Wounds the size of a nickel Making your physical whistle Pack my pistol like an anti-ballistic missile Fa shizzle What ya punk ass expect? I'm tryin' to uppercut you hard enough to giraffe your neck I'm tryin' to beat you to a pulp before you grab your TEC Niggas give me upset props, I mean mad respect I mean mad respect