Crooked I - You Should Be From C.O.B. lyrics

[Hook: G.L. Smooth] If you got your money on your mind If you on your hustle and your grind If you know how hoodstars shine You should be from C.O.B [Verse 1: Demetrius Capone] Too much old west dick lickin', f** the feelings f** dancing rappers, I'mma crush your building b**h s** a dick till the suction begin to crush your grill in I bust until I nut my children Coke rap, I supply a few addicts West Coast crack, call it Dodger blue magic Dodger blue hatted, this the new religion That mean we set trippin' on n***as if you a Christian [Verse 2: Julius Luciano] My cirlces all ballin', like Spalding First we crawl, then we walk down my circles all joggin' Evolving, yeah word to Charles Darwin I'm murkin' all y'all, it's my purpose, non-callin' I'm drama walking, my shots like punctuation Punk, you hatin' like a comma Glock'll pause it My llama talkin', your heater don't speak back There's no dialogue, my choppers is monologue [Hook] [Verse 3: Kenny Siegel] You trippin' if you thinkin' I ain't got a thing on me A f**in' eighteen Kong, done got a thing on me It's like my hat depends on me, how it leans on me I'm married to my heat so the gat'll ring for me I got a mean army, Kenny Siegel fly and I ain't got a wing on me I got these freaks on me, want me cause my charms is cold as my charm My gun big, my arms long as my arm [Verse 4: Andrew 'Dice' Dinero] I keep a Glock nine in my waist line This serial k**er don't waste time when I'm spittin' rhymes, I'm dope as a coke line Who can match my level of grind I squeeze two nines simultaneously watch bullets rip through your spine And that's what the f** it do You can catch 'em dumpin' niro in the 'hood in the Chevy Caprice sittin' on them 22's Like a boss, it's C.O.B. or nothin' n***a that's all I know, it's C.O.B. or nothin' [Hook] [Verse 5: Sauce Da Boss] I be like Optimus Prime, they Glock when I grind I'm bouncin' my shine, I'm just a boss in my prime I'm goin' hard for my team, my sneakers is clean Mix Dew with the Lean, with six men on my team We gettin' cream, for instance gettin' cheddar Who do it better? C.O.B. forever Indever, clever, we shine through any weather Yo, Sauce the man, Don Dada, who hotter Who rock Prada, hoppin' out the candy Armada [Verse 6: Crooked I] Homie, it's either eat or die Picture me in my richest, squeezin' through the needle's eye Picture me squeezin' heaters, man them desert eagles fly Do not be the reason why Though there's no I in team, there's just my team and I We makin' this dough, the COB is a mob The craziest flow, I promised the God Atheists know that I'm a rebel a** field n***a, bangin' C.O.B So when I die, find some rednecks to hang me from a tree [Hook]