[Intro - Crooked I]
Yeah, Million Dollar
I was told only do what you afraid to
Ya scared, niggas?
It's power in numbers
From Long Beach to South Central
From Watts to the bank
My nigga Jay Rock
[Jay Rock]
I'm seargent slaughter when I hop up on this track, dawg
You know it's armada
Oaint your whole muhfuckin’ town red when my lead hit the tablet
And for the jealous (?) workin’ my (?) like (?)
I’m totally fitted, you collateral damage
Anybody who challenge when I’m on can blow up a planet
Nuclear warfare when I’m on this beat, bitch
I’m so hot, eight thousand degree shit
Murk yo' ass with my trademark
Step in yo' central, turn your studio to a graveyard
I go hard, you go soft, you Barbie, see the pink in your eyes
Nothing but a bitch in disguise
These dick riders, steady tryna hitch ’em a ride
(?) is over, go gitchu a (?)
When this beef cocked back might hit you wit' five
Leave yo' brains on display for the news at nine
That’s how these Cali boys ride!
[Coniyac]
I does it from (?) new whips
I'm on money in a new sense, I'm a nuisance
Ain't no barricade, I kinda left it, where that new set(?)
I drift my own (?) and, bitch, I don’t recruit raps
Chase money to catch it, we Franklin with (?)
Practice on targets at random and ransom receivers
Word binding is biblical, and (?)
Landmine flow, the Johnny Depp blow as a poet(?)
I'm goin' town on these niggas that been (?) Adam
Impossible to touchdown on our when we sack 'em
We sniper decipher (?) summer ignited, we fire
Black dots winter mitten(?), now your time's up
I'm West now rancid with extravagant transit
Watching (?) get blue bruises to amuse news
Channelling Wolverine (?) X-Men I'm damaging
Playin' pathologist to bodies just for the sampling
Nigga!
[Glasses Malone]
I ain't no gangbang rookie
School of Hard Knocks, I ain't ever play hookie
Took (?)
Trap Hall of Famers where the game need to put me
So pushy bully bullies in the streets
(?) quick to bring a fully to the beat
Call that bitch a spoon, they’ll be scoopin' y'all up
If I ever get to empty all this (?)
Look young, I'm a different breed of nigga
Hungry, like Birdman don’t feed a nigga
I got work so I don’t need the nigga
Plus I got arms long as Trevor Ariza's nigga
Act silly, test my Kevin Hart
We’ll see who get the last laugh, you motherfucking mark
Curry, they screamin' hurry up and buy
They see the old dawg in my motherfuckin' eyes
Wassup 3x
[Mistah F.A.B.]
I got a gift with this lyrical style
And when I spit you might’ve thought I was a miracle child
Murderous verbous(?) spits deliver passes
Just like Irvin did swervin' in a Suburban in dat car
Full of urban kids
Namin' dat title alone terrify my rivals
I never change like Islam, entertain the Bible
The spiritual mythical typical rippin' flow
That paralyze MC's, I'm leavin' 'em crippled tho
Con artist, I talk a kufi off of Muslim domes
Sylvester Stallone, tell Rocky that the king is home
When white bitches bad as Sharon Stone
Carryin' zones, Bay Area's own carry the throne
Love my block so much, man, I married my zone
I got jazz like Jerry and Sloan gravedigga
Get out my way 'fore I bury you, homes
I'm so unique, there's no comparin' the clones
I'm gone
[Crooked I]
(?)
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