Lyrics

[Intro: KXNG Crooked] Classic shit This that real Long Beach east side shit, that real Brooklyn shit We on our fourth Infinity Stone, hold up [Verse 1: KXNG Crooked] Gun pop out quick, you friend or foe, nigga? Snitches in town, you sitting around a mole, nigga You hitting the ground, hollow tips in the pound Like a bitch who strip in a gown, they spinning around a pole, nigga Send shots at the king, I'm on the throne, killa Give props to queens who get they own skrilla I salute the day-jobbers wholeheartedly 'Cause hoes be grave robbers, oh, pardon me, gold diggers Put your hands in the air if you want the encore Get out your seat, what you acting likе Rosa Parks for? The Art of War author, nigga, hardcore Thesе sixteens go to work, nigga, this Job Corps I stay ahead of my competition by real margins Get a bag, walk in the booth like I'm still starving Fifty cent for a ramen noodle's a real bargain Used to steal at Target while my brother was in a little apartment It was raining, he cooking ready rock Hole in the roof, we caught the water in spaghetti pots Now we let the Chevy hop, they know me on every block Fuck every opp, I send 'em venom like Eddie Brock I'm in the room, better address your elephant I've been spitting silly since them Willie Esco lettermans You niggas ain't got no backbone Jell-O dwellin' in Your exoskeleton, softer than yellow gelatin Say hello to the west coast veteran In a red Ghost sailin' with a female who got ghetto melanin And she dressed so elegant, while my dress code's relevant Full of retro elements, talking Jordans, the M4s Walk down on you corny-ass flunkies The industry's full of yes-men and horny-ass junkies And y'all made 'em famous in this rap shit That's okay because we back, bitch [Verse 2: Joell Ortiz] Friend of foe? Yo, state your biz Hm, you tendin' dough? Well, there it is Me? You ain't know who I am by now, then you ain't hip-hop, bitch Big block, fifth up in the air the day that B.I.G. got hit It's Brooklyn, spaceship with the sick cockpit Only got time to make a pit stop, bitch, so give top quick I'm running late, hour hands glid by six By the way, your wristwatch ticks, then it's not it Got on a Rollie Deepsea while I'm deep sea diving That's oysters near the Oyster in the Fiji Islands Moisture on my neck, you boys see me shinin' No Moissanite on deck, that's some VV vibin' Better tuck that, 'cause he be wildin' Shit, I'll turn his parents to BeBe and CeCe Winans Fuck the game plan, I'm from the old Brooklyn Before all the gang banging, brains hanging at every train station No safe havens, they found him on the street And come off the sheepskin, now he count 'em in his sleep I ain't living in my past, I'm just tryna tell your ass That my trigger used to blast and you know history repeats, uh I'm honestly not too fond of the newer eighties I'd probably just do a bomber with Pradas under the Yankee Or maybe some crazy Fear of God joggers I'm feeling lazy My whole closet should be in navy cause I'm wavy Coming up in them projects, it was hard Now I fit two project apartments in my garage And that's without moving my cars See, the hand I was dealt was harsh, but I hit the river card If you think I'm still grabbing advances Chance is slimmer than a short flight to Los Angeles And we just secured a college tour of them campuses Broads pullin' on my Js, hawkin' like Kansas is This a different kind of art, these canvases Ain't seen tougher paintin' since sprayin' with cans and shit If you a friend you a friend, you my friend's friend, you good You a friend of my foe, you both gone, my friend