Kurupt the Kingpin, Xzibit, Crooked I
(Wait a minute, um)
Crooked I:
This is the art of, manslaughter
When I'm rockin' I'm more shockin' than
droppin' a boom box in bath water
You entered the wrong scuffle
You catchin' a chrome buckle
I uppercut niggas hard enough to
break my own knuckles
Deliver the sick verbals
My shotty spit a round,
before you hit the ground,
your body spin around, in six circles
Diminishin' infamous menaces
I'm waitin' to get dicced, if not,
I'm a start finishin' innocents
Lyrics (lyrics), I'm
breezin the region
Freezin g's in your legion
Freakin' ancient techniques when
I'm speakin' phoenician
It's all about Crooked
These bitches shout Crooked
I'll make you say the West Coast
ain't shit without Crooked
I own a vicious label,
niggas'll get disabled
When I'm spittin' rhymes written
on project kitchen tables
I load this 4- 5 and let slugs dive at ya
Now that's for Crooked I,
the scrap happy, mic snatcha
Kurupt:
Terror starts,
in the midst of your heart, starts
The storm, my vocals float like arts
In the mystic state of mind,
when I create a rhyme
My microphone massacres
every year the same time
With audio amputations,
vocal thoughts of a loud talker
Up against the microphone night stalker
With a tendency of bashing
MCs, like ten of me
As you can see I continue mashin'
MCs
Caboom, the room gets cleared
as my views get clearer
Extra- terrestrial microphone terror
In effect, get infected
Tell me what the fucc you expected
These venomous injections
I leave whole sections,
and sections full of injections
From these poisenous melod
ies and selections
I select the methods
of slow anguish
I mangle shit with my language
Tell me, have you ever seen one elope
With the microphone
In a scandal like abilities to make
MCs explode
Baboom, alone in my own zone
So don't compare me to none
Not one's nearly
Severe, 'cause I severely,
impare MCs
Near me, oppose and fear me,
I got plots and theories
Sincerely,
I could have the spot locked
Niggas get stoned for
touching microphones
with no knowledge on how to rock
Daz: Yeah, back in effect,
ted
I came to the table double fisted
Sadistic, heavy artillery, for all my enemies
Bust shots up in the sky
screamin' obsenities
Make niggas sport cackies and
chucks from hear to Italy
It'll be, a cold day in Hell
when you see Xzibit fail
Act like a bitch on bail,
tuck tail, and run
See we do it how it can't be done
I'm the rough cut,
plus how the west was won
Or direct descendant of the gatling gun
Don't test me son,
you fucc around and catch you one
That ain't a threat,
that's a promise I can definitely keep
You can't compete wit' 25 niggas
wit' heat in the street
Ready to re peat,
round after after round at you
All hell break lose when the
whole Pound come through
I found that you and yours,
can never fucc wit' mine
I own shit but gimme some
more like Busta Rhymes
Cross the line,
now you gotta pay the piper
I'm The Alkaholik sniper,
that be keepin' the crowds hyper
It's ashes to ashes and dust to dust
Can't stop till me and my
niggas is platinum plus
My Dogg Kurupt
