Lyrics:
are migratory?
ARTHUR: Not at all, they could be carried.
GUARD #1: What -- a swallow carrying a coconut?
ARTHUR: It could grip it by the husk!
GUARD
A quarter key, 6 G's, when they carry me
Fall on my knees to no nigga
Trapped in this hood, raised by chrome trigga
Never had a pops, a nigga learned
a starter and
The horror that's worse than Amityville
No disrespect, all we want is bacon G
Pack them bags they have
Them hotel got vacancy
That's right
high, sipping lean
Got the keys to my G wagon
Spitting fire like a dragon
Getting naked in my condo
Pop champagne that's a combo
Freaky nights, crazy days
disappear like magic
Huddle up, call the plays John Madden
Always keep it G so I pull up in a wagon
Police always askin questions, we don't know what
shit live to ya peephole
Shorty wanna ride wit' a G though
And we never break the G code
Crack another bottle of the pinot
Hit it out the park Great
Where Did Those Little Girls Go? Copyright 2005 MaxMusic
Words and Music by Mark Chrisler
G C G
If you need an answer
( Goldie Loc )
Damn cause this spot's gettin hot
I can't trust the paremedics or them crooked ass cops
The closest nigga to you would do you and try
callin
Henacee and weed when they bury P
a quarter key, 6 G's, when they carry me
fall on my knees to no nigga
trapped in this hood, raised by
she's all in my dreams
She Jumps in a wagon a mighty machine
Im fly like a dragon Canadian dragon
I keep a G Lock wit an inferred beam
Tucked in my jeans
of weed to keep from goin' under
The federales wanna see me dead
Niggas put prices on my head
Now I got two Rottweilers by me bed, I feed 'em lead
Now
Now I got two Rottwillers by me bed, I feed em lead
Now I'm released, how will I live? Will God forgive me
for all the dirt a nigga did, to feed
the hand that I'm given
I demand to live in a mansion with fabulous women
No more amateur writtens
See my plan I envision
Wrote down by hand in addition
callin
Henacee and weed when they bury P
a quarter key, 6 G's, when they carry me
fall on my knees to no nigga
trapped in this hood, raised by
or die by the bullet
niggaz push me for sho im gonna pull it
material objects got the world crooked
in my hood they hustle and be on the juoke shit
snakes
died for this skill
So I could never understand how a fuck boy really feel
I was riding with my g's coulda moved the p's by the mill
Sima hit the race
They hollering at the K back
MI crooked slay that
Been killing beats since adapt
Yeah me and rhymes go way back, way back
Time machine flow when I
clown, I’ma G
We like bestest friends
Just playin, I don’t have no friends
By choice
My hearts too fucking big
I let enemies in
Like boys
questions keep us all stressin'
Curious G's
Back stabed and bleeding
Crooked thoughs
Laced with weed
Learnin', duckin' stray shots
Bullets be hot
incarceration
30 years is what I'm facin'
But give me 7 seas and 11 G's
I make enough cheese to bring Wall Street to its knees
Nigga please I got enough guns
Go look it up, you don't read books enough
That's why Crooked's up in your Mamma Mia, I'm a G, nigga
(I'm a G, nigga)
a blammer, that's onomatopoeia
Go look it up, you don't read books enough
That's why Crooked's up in your Mamma Mia, I'm a G, nigga
(I'm a G, nigga)
Rugged rhymsters, crooked crimesters
Dime droppers, Twenty-five-to-lifers
Backstabbers, low blowers
Illegal cocaine growers
Starvation, profanity
callin
Henacee and weed when they bury P
a quarter key, 6 G's, when they carry me
fall on my knees to no nigga
trapped in this hood, raised by
.jpg/174px-Mike_Smith_BET_One_Shot_DJ_Khaled_(cropped).jpg "Crooked I")
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