Crooked I - Big Brother lyrics

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Crooked I - Big Brother lyrics

[Verse 1: Crooked I] I'm every bit of a heavy hitter What you like, party rhymers or deadly spitters? It don't matter 'cause I'm every n***a They get mad when the Chevy glitter Don't get mad, take your best shot n***as better be Reggie Miller I click blast and k** you fake pussies Body bags zip past ya face like bay hoodies The pigs grab the case, we ain't rookies So let's get past the chase, you can't book me These n***as ain't gangstas, they acting All I gotta do is write your government name on a napkin Half up front, the other half on the back end I was on stage when it happened, singing and rapping These cold streets are the father of my militance Everything they taught me was the slaughter of my innocence Part of me is a martyr in a sense 'Cause my nice side died, now my heart is dark as a k**er's is I'm from the Eastside where n***as k** your kids If you looking familiar they peel your wig sh**, a million pigs want to keep me on my side The other side is where the riches live My hustle build a bridge I came from nada, my shades are Prada I'm not from the Bay but why can't you yada Dig the fact that I aim the shotters Blame my father's baby mama Taught me to aim them Llamas Knock the sugar out you sweet n***as though you ain't pinatas Gangsta persona when I face your honor You're dealing with a n***a that I take manana Away from you, a straight piranha Pull out the Ferrari I sh** on opposition I look in the rear view and I see my competition I ain't talking about people behind my position I'm talking about my reflection I'm my only competition You want to be like me, please stop your wishing No blasphemy but C.O.B. is my religion Street gospel, you better stop and listen Even in troubled waters it gives you aqua vision I see clearly homey, please hear me What you see in a lifetime I'm trying to see yearly 'Cause poverty f**ed me up severely Now I come through on chrome feets, freaks cheer me Put 'em in the seat, switch gear speeds Then I turn them speakers up 'til them hoes' ears bleed Show 'em what a gangsta about 'Til I tat Crooked I on my dick, keep my name out your mouth

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