Long Beach To Brooklyn

Lyrics

[Intro: Crooked I] Hold on, hold on We got Crooked I on the beat box And we got Jay-Z on the mic Let's go! [Jay-Z] I'm a BK brawler Marcy projects hallway loiterer Pure coke copper, get your order up I bring 'em to Baltimore in the Ford Explorer But it's gonna cost you more if I gotta get 'em to Florida Rucker game attender; with the Bent parked On the sidewalk with the temp plates on the fender I ain't hard to find you catch me front and center At the Knick game, big chain in all my splendor [Crooked I] Hold on, hold on, hold on Bring that shit back, man [Verse 1: Jay-Z] I'm a BK brawler Marcy projects hallway loiterer Pure coke copper, get your order up I bring 'em to Baltimore in the Ford Explorer But it's gonna cost you more if I gotta get 'em to Florida Rucker game attender; with the Bent parked On the sidewalk with the temp plates on the fender I ain't hard to find you catch me front and center At the Knick game, big chain in all my splendor Next to Spike if you pan left to right I own Madison Square, catch me at the fight With Cam, once again if you pan left of his ice It be the man that write checks with the hand that don't write I go, off the head when I'm rambling on the mic And I throw, off the Feds when I'm scrambling at night And it was often said, I brought hammers to the fight But we from New York City, right Cam? [Verse 2: Crooked I] Even if you had nine lives just like a kitten cat I take all 9 of 'em from you quick as I grip a gat (Blaow) You might hear some applause when I spit the sickest rap Hear a niggas gun clappin' when you gettin' whacked See I'm a gangsta my fuckin' enemies couldn't damage I grew up facin' the kind of anger I couldn't manage I got them God given talent, so Crooked took advantage The Crooked manish I'm hungry dog, lookin' famish I shook your vantage Unseen but now I'm back, nigga One pull of this trigger, you spillin' mad liquor I calculated my moves to make my math quicker I rap slicker to stack figures, the track ripper This California Crooked, West Coast skyscraper You faggots ain't nothin' but maggots on my fly paper I committed the lone heist, I mean a sly caper And my paper buried up under 5 acres I know the meanin' of questions that niggas can't answer Gonna flip you around just like a breakdancer Got the will to survive, man, I could shake cancer Down to rob me a bank like Oakland's eight Panthers I'm O.G. with it and no, he didn't Walk across The Source Awards stage rockin' a Long Beach fitted In a coup with coach seats in Long Beach with my chrome feet spinnin' And a quarter piece to show he's with it I'm so gangsta! [Outro] Ha, ha Young Boss Volume One, nigga Mixtape for the streets Dynasty Records, nigga, the empire Shouts out to all my niggas out West Ya know Compton, Carson, Hawthorne, Watts, Long Beach, nigga Inglewood What else, nigga Shouts out to all my niggas out East My live niggas In Brooklyn, Bed-Stuy, nigga Yeah Brownsville, never ran, never will Yeah, nigga Flatbush, what up My niggas in Queensbridge My niggas in Jersey City My Philly niggas Ya'm talkin' 'bout Uptown niggas Yeah It's ya boy It's ya homie Crooked I, nigga I'm in your city Holla at me My dirty, dirty South niggas too Yeah Houston, nigga, the H Humpty Hump, niggas Sucka Free Records My niggas at Rap-A-Lot Records Yeah Shouts out to my niggas on the muthafuckin' Midwest side of things Ya know Chi-Town, nigga Oklahoma Tulsa, Oklahoma, nigga On the Northside OKC This for all my niggas, man It's your homeboy It's your homie Young Crooked Dynasty Records, nigga It's over… over...over... Or is it? Do you know how many rappers that this boss inspire? Back up off this squire You can all expire When my dogs get fired up It's Crooked I from the lost empire My Glock spit fire Man, your jaws get wired shut, what?! Start up the controversy I rap with a vest under my Dodger jersey My infamous spit, finishes and diminishes killers This menace is quick Sinner's finna rip lyricists Kick limitless, venomous lyrics from the genesis Give witnesses hemorrhages Scrimmage ya big nemesis It's me! Bash you Crack you with the back of a [?] Faggots will nap exactly where maggots and rats do In fact, I mini MAC any cat you attached to Braaaap, braaaap Your hat is a package of Ragu You talkin' to bosses Wait a minute We take hostages Lock 'em in closets Till they all sick and nauseous From oxygen lossage I box 'em in coffins I'm toxin to talkin' The Glock finna pause it Stalk you for blocks Till your lost and exhausted Holocaustic, nigga My rhyme flow reach you (Your ass) Drill you and kill you in 5, 4, 3, 2, 1, nigga Young Boss Volume One Stay tuned to the next episode Dynasty Records It's official Ha, haaa