Yo, last week was the calm, this is the storm
Shout out to everybody fuckin’ with the Weeklys (Yeah)
“Hold up Crooked, now what you up to?
We don’t trust you to give the classics just due” (Huh)
Who flippin’ classics better than us two?
My attitude is just like Prodigy, nigga, fuck you

I’m takin’ music to the left side like a clef note
Grab a NY classic and drag it to the west coast
Put it on hydraulics, had that motherfucker hoppin’ with a yappa in the passenger seat, signin’ your death note
I cock and spray got your body armor slayed
Blood drippin’ out your body armor like it’s marmalade, karma pay
Helicopter blade, helicopter fadel
Lyrical gangbangin’ like Dr. Dre in a Chronic way, except it’s modern day
If any opponent enter my zone, the serial killer is gettin’ it on
Niggas are pitiful, thinkin’ they lyrical, how many syllables fit in a song?
Just leave the spitter alone, sendin’ you home, splittin’ your dome
Did it alone, but they think I did it with clones, just like it was three of me
I got so much G in me like Eazy-E, but it ain’t easy bein’ me
Shady with the nickel-plated nine just like BME
Bad Meets Evil, the Desert Eagle is on creatine
Bullets from the iron remind you, the flyin’ guillotine
Witnesses outside, they lie, too blind to see a thing
Crooked I’s alive, but I decided to be a king
Battle rappers want me inside the arena ring
They know I’m barred up, look at me, God
I been in real bar fights, under my eye I’m scarred up
I ain’t hard up for no money, I fuck a snow bunny
Give her the black cock, jackpot, that’s some hard luck
Like I’m dark skinned, Puerto Rican and Asian
Word to Phife Dawg, I ain’t like y’all, I just night crawl
When the night fall, peep the invasion
I remember when beefin’ had a nigga sleepin’ in Days Inn
I’m a east side nigga, Long Beach nigga
I’m a nigga with a attitude, I’m spittin’ gasoline
The track is gettin’ fucked with no vaseline
I’m a ’91 Ice Cube, bow down
Hyenas are on the prowl now, animal version of savage
Insurgents with cannons and turbans, we gon’ wild out
They found out what my fighting style ’bout
Kicked him from his front yard to his back, now that’s a roundhouse
Crooked’s immortal, I travel through different portals, I got a different decorum, these whores wanna give him oral
Want me to store ’em and horde ’em, force ’em against their morals
While me and her nigga quarrel, so me and my dick ignore ’em
But I might be at the ‘cino if that chocho lookin’ fat
That mean lick her in the front, poke her in the back
I’m so many in a slot, give me that honey and your pot
Thinkin’ it’s funny, ’cause I got my car running in the lot
When this over, it’s a rap
Back to the grind again, I got a coal mine, not the kind that you find miners in
I’m from a different a cloth, you niggas soft, you niggas average
I’m from a different fabric, I write with a designer pen
When I’m listenin’ to Mobb Deep, mind state is hungry and skinnier than Gandhi
You won’t need a stethoscope to listen to my heart beat
I do it for the block, just put your ear to the concrete
Speakin’ of heart, picture me stoppin’ the heart of every popular artist toppin’ the charts
You put a battle rap out? That’s like sippin’ yak during a black out
Shot in the dark, I flood shit, hop in the Ark like Noah
You wanted ridiculous lyrics, here it is
I’m on some other shit, like parkin’ my mothership
Hop out, rockin’ some khakis and house shoes in my pyramid
I don’t care if you listenin’ ’cause I know your spirit is
Still spittin’ that real ass shit, ill ass shit
My fans sayin’, “Kill that shit!”
They sayin’, “Go Crooked, kill that shit!”
They sayin’, “Go Crooked, kill that shit!”
You think I ain’t, when I am? Yeah (Huh)
I hear your rappers conversations when the mic’s off
Some Mass-hoes avoiding you was the right call
Why would I talk around the same piece of the shit I would walk around on the side walk? I ain’t like y’all
No, I ain’t like none of you niggas in the industry and every week I’m goin’ on another killin’ spree
Fuck outta here with them Roseanne bars, you big pussies
No wonder I’m so damn hard, I get busy

Yeah, the Weeklys (Weeklys)
Every Friday, you know what’s poppin’
It’s that time again, you know I mean? (Time, time, time)
Jewelry (Yeah, R-I-P Prodigy)
You see me in traffic, bark at ya dog
Ayo, Nate, let’s get the fuck outta here, man