up 2 the sun

Singer:crooked i

what's hatnin' dizz?

we back

ayo

what up red bull?

ay mike

yo greater movement affiliation

urban confucius what up?

order goona 89 ti 3g

yo

i lost a lot of friends in this game you know i mean

i've been double crossed

no medallion

a city full of lost niggas wildin'

they hate to see a boss nigga stylin'

red carpet walk across with a stallion

yo

gucci dripping sauce in italian

whoa

i just wanna floss like i'm smiling

whoa

stay away from false niggas smiling

yo

pay the cost to be the boss

money pallet

oh

niggas mad

my bars live in a cell

i call it the pen and pad

forgive me i didn't have a dad

shit was bad

they told me i finish last

instead i'm just kicking ass forever

i'm in my bag

yeah

i could feel it when the respect is real

doing business with crook is deeper than a record deal

my tec could spill

yet and still i couldn't pay my electric bill

now my every meal is something fly like electric eel

coming up and niggas plotting against ya

starting to whisper

watching your pictures

stalking your insta

hope the coppers will frisk 'em

i walk with a pistol

churchill in my mouth

feel like you talking to winston

memoirs of a fatherless kid

i grew up in a zombie apocalypse crib

prosperity died

poverty lived

in my mind robbery constantly here

think i got you i probably did

apology shit

i was hungry as a vegan in the meat market

police department lookin' for a street target

now neiman marcus sneakers walk across a mink carpet

i promised god i would stop it soon as my dream started

a soul artist writin' about all of life's test

i'm cold hearted

diamonds all on my ice chest

make the right steps

make the right calls

turn a pawn to a king before the knife falls something like chess

a boss

i graduated from a rich thug

seem like they gotta hate you just to get love

money on my head

in the bed nightmares that my bitch called the feds

that's why i'm at the strip club

tryna get my mind off the leeches and the back stabbers

chillin' in the v.i.p. with a bunch of whack rappers

i don't blame 'em

they mommas was probably crack addicts

it's just a theory

picked up the series

i'm back at it

moving melodies with my mind telekinetic hella poetic

nobody got better letters embedded in a line

call up a medic i said i'm sticking your neck in a guillotine just to get ahead 'cause you rather pathetic when you rhyme

doctor monroe

niggas on hell's island

like the word talk you get the l quiet

i don't wanna hear shit when i'm spittin'

just remember the same letters that spell listen spell silent

i move with a pair of shooters

with barracudas with a pair of rugers that get respected like

larry hoover

cut your wig like some hair remover

i be somewhere in cuba

sittin' in a pool just like i'm sharing ubers

reminding you niggas that i'm the best ever

seen a lyricist like crooked the west never

i go gorilla

i chip you like a poker dealer

the flows are iller

nigga i'm on a next level

the final boss you face

give up the joystick

you boys are pussy as dykes fucking a toy dick

destroyed quick

when the beat in my voice click

getting rid of black ass snitches

and white boy rittz

'cause we don't like that shit up over here

east side

long beach throw my city in the air

yeah

it's friday you know i had to come

let's walk right up to the sun my niggas

word

word

word

the weekly's

it's friday

you know where we at every friday

yo

crime city what up

they ain't fucking with us

ayo active let's get the fuck outta here man

see you next week

what that i smell smoke?

oh not yet

when ya ready bark at your dog

we here

all smoke