Zee And Me

Lyrics

[Intro: Crooked I] Yeah Shouts out to Rollercoaster Rims Shouts out to Dynasty Records I'm the CEO DJ Crooked (Yeah) Yeah Shouts out to Da Neckbones and Young Zee Yeah Yeah Serve 'em [Verse: Crooked I] I love it when niggas is all poppin' shit, Crooked'll pop shit with ya Pop in a clip, pop, pop, let a couple shots hit ya No, I'm not Hitler, nigga, not rockin' a swastika From my Glock, click a lot quicker than a racist cops trigger One shot, rip you apart, watch your homie drop liquor How could you not figure that I'd turn you to chop liver? I sit in dark rooms like I'm a photographer, writin' your murder Even in pitch black, I see further than most binoculars Crooked, the popular philosopher, spittin' them writtens Which is religious as the epigrapher See, I'm on top of the game Picture a nigga's neck pop in the vein Kickin' the most prolific, horrific lyrics, I can arrange I hit the block in a Range, same spot niggas get shot in the brains Aim Glocks, no, I'm not finna change I'm a skyscraper, my height is a vertical 9 acres Under my Dodger hat, that's the metaphor for the fly vapor 'Cause the fly ideas that stick to the mind of this rhyme maker Make me shine, like the rings on 5 combined Lakers Show me the dopest brother you met, I'ma serve 'em Put up a bubblegum colored 'Vette, to cover the bet Crooked was raised on them government checks, the hood is Russian roulette But I'm good, nigga, nothin' but love and respect I can park the Denali, jump out with 50 carats in my medalli' And take a piss in the darkest alley in Cali It's Crooked, nigga [Verse: Young Zee] Uh Mr. Porter It's the Young Brick (Smack) Uh What up, Crooked Neckbones Ah, ah Ah, yeah My dough like Joe, stack it like Jacksons Garage door lift up, back the white Mack in We both rich men, big cribs with four kitchens Theatre, we can watch Pulp Fiction, Nicole Kidman It's Young, we big dogs, y'all just paper soldiers Your dreams of being that new Scarface is over I fuck hoes and leave 'em, they stay mad at Zee ass Pretty chicks that look like Cameron Diaz Like the Passion of The Christ, my life straight out the bible Thug life, brought to you, audio subtitle You could jet in your house, in your room and runn-i-n' AK shells go through aluminium sidin' We like beef, I'm not a juvenile, ask for me I drop it like it's hot, we the old Cash Money If I get murked, I come back as Wyatt Earp Tie dye your shirt, leave you by a pile of dirt Bitch