Crooked I - Love Me No More lyrics

[Into] Hip Hop Weekly man Ya'll know what it is Forty-seven, AK-47 C.O.B., Circle of Bosses Crooked I, let's do this What it do? Yeah Ya'll know what it is man I didn't want to do it but I had to do it This sh** knocking Shouts out to my dude Kobe, you k**ed the hook my n***a Shots to the dude cheddar, get better Come on man Let's get 'em This what we do n***a, c'mon [Verse 1] I'm a militant young boss, homey I am rebel 'Cause whoever wrote the history books are lying devils That's why I'm keeping rocky ice in a giant bezel To show 'em in these present times we on a higher level My neck is so chunky, robbers thought I was a j**eler You reach for the ice, say good bye to your medulla And hi to a tumor, my spirit's been here before in the body of a ruler I'm Haile Sela**ie Junior Soon you'll understand my mystery language Until then, picture me strapped, sh** could be dangerous n***as be anxious to vanquish enemies with six in the chamber Triggers click and you instantly famous Click click, won't forget what your name is My pistols are brainless man get a swift kick in your an*s Street living, we got a blind date with bars We meet prison, my n***as please listen The system want to know why I'm out on that creep mission 'Cause they don't give the slums enough crumbs to feed pigeons So we resort to thiefism Break bread with criminals, k**ers I eat with 'em The positive vibrations in the ether project a unique rhythm So to keep up with the beat, my n***a I seek wisdom In an Armani suit how can I truly be bossin' When one of my only homies rocked his first suit in a coffin His future is lost and I talked to the OGs, hope they tutor me often Dude, I'm truly lost and engulfed in the hood Hell's flames getting nearer The way I shot at n***as it's hard for me to look in the mirror In fear of what I'm becoming, but it's clearer than crystal I and my pistol, we're a team, I wish it was dream My cousin told me shoot a n***a when I was sixteen Still hear him scream Wonder what he thinking when he see me on the screen Every show I'm rocking, yeah I'm watching for his beam Still I tilt my brim and I swim with the gators Even when the place is filled to the rim with you haters Didn't want to reach for them nine double Ms but you made us And if I didn't you wimps would've slayed us Night after night, we might have to fight Over sh** that's worthless in your life after life So I have to write with insight soon as I grab the mic I might point your life's plight at the light And that's why this rapper's a real boss From the School of Hard Knocks, I feel I got my masters in real talk And that's why you rappers are still soft Feel on the cap of your cranium, now imagine it peeled off It might sound a little unconventional k**ing n***as 'cause their material's one dimensional Got a lot of dead homies man and I feel that their spirit's near me So I'm spittin' it for them 'cause I know they can really hear me They'll haunt me forever if I don't sever the track Even my posthumous homies know I'm better than that I'ma get you off repetitive rap, I know they said it was crack It's Hip Hop Weekly, your medicine's back And I'm back repping Long Beach and C.O.B 'Til I'm with the dead people I see And I fade to black [Outro] Yeah, Hip Hop Weekly man Shouts out to everybody supporting the series It's been a good one ya know I'm dedicating this one to all my dead homies, too many to name Boss in peace Yeah, to my Uncle Leroy, boss in peace To my Aunt Charlene, boss in peace This is real life for me man You fake a** gangstas, ya'll ain't sh** This Eastside Longbeach, 562 'til the whole world through C.O. motherf**in' B-O-S-S, boss of the whole West n***a f**ers