Yeah
Hip-Hop Weekly, C.O.B. (C.O.B.)
Circle of Bosses, Crooked I
Ow (Treacherous Records, ha ha)
Yeah
Next week we doing some old school shit, ha ha
I’m still taking requests, hit me on MySpace
Guess what?

I’m Mr. Hip-Hop Weekly
And fuck all copycats, get guac freely
Yes I embody that, dig hot breezies
In the back of a Pontiac that was parked in a laundromat
Pimping’s not easy
Shouts out to Fred Hampton Jr. in Chicago
Shouts to Bishop Brigante in Toronto
I’m a mercenary, squeeze it double quattro
Cover your meat with the shells for the cheese like a taco
I go straight to your crib if you pushing weight
When you get home I might be the reason that your bush’ll shake
I pop out, my Glock find a place to put your face
White tee bloody as an apron around a butcher’s waist
Like them baby back joints stacked on top of each other
Ribs are touching, no stopping a brother
Strip nigga, now go lay on top of your mother
A sick nigga, it was a hobby to rob me a sucker (yeah)
I’m about to ride around to Biggie’s “Ready to Die” shit
With one of you maggots tied up in the trunk, now that’s some fly shit
My heart dark as the inside of your eyelids
Bitches try to gas me, Crooked I’s too hybrid (ow)
Yeah, I spit like a Long Beach Pharoahe Monch
Keep your eyes on the sparrow when the double barrel launch
I’m g’d like a character from Robert De Niro’s Bronx
Tale, hell, tell me why the hell I wear a watch (huh)
Cause when it come to time, I’m so far ahead of mine
I can tell you ahead of time you need some better lines
Like eleven times seven, I’m
Seventy-seven times better than whoever rhymed, never mind

Yeah, I ain’t gonna even educate you niggas right now
Crooked I man, gangsta MC, C.O.B. (Circle of Bosses)
Shouts out to my dude LG in Brooklyn (brrap)
Yah mean
Shouts to my dude Dylan Dylinjah (pow, pow)
We made history baby, when you was on Bad Boy and I was on Death Row
We recorded a song together
First Death Row and Bad Boy collabo since all the bullshit (you know)
You know what I’m talking about (ha ha)
We rode through the streets of LA together baby
You know how I do it, pistols motherfucking up
20s on Benzes (yeah)
C.O.B., Crooked I, yeah
I’m a gangsta MC, gangsta M, gang
I’m a gangsta MC, gangsta M, gang (ow)
I’m a gangsta MC, gangsta M, gang (yeah)
I’m a gangsta MC, gangsta M, gang
I’mma, I’mma, I’mma (ha ha)
Yeah, short and sweet
What’s the motto? See you next week