the Bible. Willin' to die if the wicked is near me, if y'all ever try to come with some crooked shit, nigga. What it is, it's the book of thugs. Come
When it ain't nowhere to turn to (When you stuck shit outta luck) (And ain't got no hustle to make that buck dog) Could you tell me where you run to (When the road
me the bitches, the money, the cars. How do you know when you're goin' too far? The further you get, the further you are. Shit, I breaks in half crook
time. Niggas beware, 'cause here come the Clair mobbin' like some soldiers. Watch me fold ya for actin' like somebody never told ya. So off we go, to the bloody road
Yeah boy, we looking for trouble maybe if we wasn?t black then we wouldn?t have struggled player, all I got is trap niggas and crooks in my huddle they
You seen the days when the roads were death, And the fires burned right to the brim, And the bike you rode to school now it rests, And your story begins
, 'Army men' Dat bitch, wrappin' her hair in Barbie pins When the pressure's on, you'll find a bomb in your car In your trunk on the road to Arlington
Man I've been through some rough winters And plush like four summers But I've made it over them rough roads like old Hummers Look I'm a, made man crook
tried to rap sober but the shit was sounding fucked I spend a hundred dollars on the brand new Benz And if I run you off the road, run, blow your horns
the feeling' fuck the law keep dealin' More money, more cash, more chilling I know they gone criticize the hook on this song Like I give a fuck I'm just a crook
the school hoes, now why did I cut school Fuck school, 'cause me didn't have no school clothes I had to go, hook up, a book up, now I'm a crook up On
't f-cking wit' Budden, you ain't got no choice with Royce You don't wanna see the Crooked I, well, listen to Ortiz voice That dirt road hit the 8 Mile
"Somebody lift me up, yeahhh And give me a hannnnnd Give me a ride, I'm slidin off the highway There's a curve in the road I don't know when I'm going
turn the night to day You can open up the pop and let the smoke come out We don't give a damn, 'bout a crooked ass cop Crooked officer, crooked officer
turn the night to day You can open up the pop, and let the smoke come out We don't give a damn, bout a crooked ass cop Crooked officer, crooked officer
sweepers, we call 'em choppers 'Cuz when the bullets spit they spin like helicopters This city's filled with crooked coppers and crooked doctors So how could these streets not be filled with crooked
test of aptitude is my universal appetite of altitude triple tons terms you climb when I rhyme Newton's apple had worms but there's a killer on the road