Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Crook County , by - Twista. Release date: 24.09.1998
Age restrictions: 18+
Song language: English
Crook County |
| In the Chi, it’s kill or be killed, hussle or die |
| You gotsta take the pie, momma didn’t lie |
| Look in my eyes you see the realness |
| The nine makes you feel this |
| The pain that I’m going through 'til I’m sitting on millions |
| My minds on that paper, wishin' upon a caper |
| I need to stack now, I’ll repent for my sins later |
| When I’m living greater, the mind state of a Westside native |
| It’s sick in the head, dodgin' Feds everyday |
| See me load the AK, watch 'em run when we spray |
| Get the fuck up out my way and for pray that this pistol play |
| Cause when I’m heated I’m gunning 'til there’s nothing in sight |
| So cancel Christmas muthafucka, fuck you and your life |
| Niggas in my mob is too suave |
| We ride hundred G cars, in it like the world is ours |
| Don’t disrespect or get your chest split like cigars |
| In this county of crooks tryin' to avoid jail bars |
| But it’s so hard to make cheese especially |
| If you ain’t got no Ph.D. or connect on phat keys |
| See mobstability is for niggas with nothing to lose |
| Going psycho from this drama you go through paying dues |
| I get a buck in your side tryin' to hussle for a ride |
| Or hittin' the block to find out one of your guys just died |
| So don’t come to the Chi, it’s just risking your health |
| Cause K-Town niggas’ll bomb on that ass like a stealth |
| In the county of crooks: gangbangers, killers and slangers |
| With judges be quick to hang us homies and strangers |
| No bluffin', we bustin' |
| Like a kamikaze, watch our bodies come up |
| War (?) then it’s on, now we gon' strap up, what’s up |
| Our county’s so crooked, Psycho Drama invented the style |
| Then damn near everybody took it and passed it around |
| Now these muthafuckas all look and see cause we puttin' it down |
| And ain’t no sooner or later, the world gon' realize they fakin' |
| Then snatch they tapes of the shelves and break 'em, eliminate 'em |
| Just as fast as Creator’s Way can create shit |
| Now they all on some hation, just like them nigga |
| Like ain’t nobody done a thing |
| But we run a reason around these bitches |
| The more tapes we make the more they all go broke, so fuck 'em |
| If it ain’t no love then it ain’t none |
| If it is, then nigga then say something |
| Cause more of this beats gon' stomp and keep on stompin' |
| And Drama make that solemn promise |
| That shorty flyin' all on niggas' business |
| From a lyrical Crook County, look around, you found me |
| I must’ve been bad to the bone, get the mask and the chrome |
| This shot gotta die from a blast to the dome |
| Nigga, Motha Fuck a Ouija board |
| I receive my blessings from G’s and Lords, nine-millies and swords |
| For the art of war niggas, must’ve found breathin' bored |
| Tellin' me to look into your eyes, all I see is a bitch |
| Saw Krayzie in New Orleans scary vic |
| Talkin' 'bout you was lovin' my shit |
| Hit the bud and got sick on that shit-talkin odyssey mumblin' r&b |
| You can keep the apology, you done tried to dishonor me |
| Kill the Hoes of the Harmony |
| Just when you thought it was safe |
| The Bone niggas 'bout to get slaughtered and raped |
| I can slow down and audit the tape |
| Y’all bigger than all y’all who thought it was fake |
| Now watch four-fee's on the stage, bleed from the braids |
| Die on the first on the month, cause it’s worse than the blunt |
| Why would you compete to be doomed, now you gon' see Eazy-E soon |
| Feel the boom of the reprecussion, cause the reefer’s still rushin' |
| When I reach and start bustin' |
| I’m a Bone Crusher, crook county or nothin |
| Ain’t no bluffin' |