Crushin’ Feelin’s lyrics

(Intro)
(You know) A lot of n*ggas be thinking I be talking about them in my raps and sh*t (Yeah, n*gga)
Probably cause I do, n*gga

(verse 1)
My sentiments exactly, n*ggas can't out rap me
And if they could, they already dead or they hip-hop hall-of-famers
Don't run up if you ain't got a whole catalog of bangers
Gary gangsta, guess I'm no longer a stranger
b*tch I get love out on the West Coast like I ball for Lakers
Ask my n*gga Syke, f*ck the proof, I'm where the drugs was
Hit the streets with nothing but troops, slaughter your buzz, cuz
Thuggin', I don't be bloggin' like Budden, I just speak through the songs
Figure the only reason that you was on, cause you's a clone
Moving right along, we all wrong, but all's well
Slamming off the phone and chopping stones, we all sell
Sometimes I had work on deck, and sometimes I 9-to-5-ed it
Do more than boast about balling, I rhyme about surviving
Getting it in every city I ever lived
South Central to ATL and over the Brooklyn Bridge
I hit the G and watch them shipping that weight
Serving plates, whipping with my n*gga Dominican H
I need some cash, I know you trying to get straight, so f*ck with me dawg
Them other n*ggas slamming that bammer, they need a recall
Got choppers, f*ck binoculars, n*gga we come to see y'all
Don't matter if you V, or GD, or C or a B-Dawg
The topics from the prophet prevail
East-side G.I. 'til I get dropped or I get locked in a cell
My n*gga Pill said, "I can't afford to take that L."
So he lickin shots at the f*cking laws
I call 'em Johnnies (f*ck the police), he like to call em twelve
f*ck the polices and rest in peace, to my n*gga Stymie
Pigs killed him front of his family, that sh*t was grimey
That's why everywhere I go I keep a Ruger beside me
Cut the fat from the clique, got them b*tch n*ggas way from 'round me
That's how they do you, act like they never knew you
Ho I see right through you, what you eatin' don't make me doo-doo
And if I ain't gon' sh*t, I might as well jump off the pot
Mighty dollar say I might as well pull a plot on your spot
I'm trying to clock a knot, pushing as quickly as possible
Had to be Gangsta Gibbs, wasn't gifted like Glenn Robinson
Average hoop skills, but I ride up on coupe wheels
Custom convertible Cutlass, how you and you crew feel
When you see that? You probably wanna do that just like me
I set the bar for I-N-D, no n*gga don't rap like me
You want that killer not that filler, then f*ck with yo' boy Fred
Malcolm of the Mid, probably more like Detroit Red
And I can easily bring you defeat with my vernacular
I'm too deep in these streets to be beefing with a rapper
I got n*ggas that hate me, b*tches that love me
Hands do damage so I manage to stay handsome when sh*t could get ugly
Now every n*gga rhyming think he a mob boss
Better keep it tucked cause pups get f*cked like Shad Moss
n*ggas was puffing that huff 'til I sent a few quads off
Shot my n*gga some kush and couple of zips of that bomb soft
Attracting addicts, when I pick them beats I be selecting Statik
Rap ain't nothing but talking sh*t; I'm just the best at it
At every stage show, I'm puffin that tree
Been putting it down since '03, but y'all wasn't f*ckin with me
I threw my tape out on the streets and watched my tape lift off
With out a verse from Weezy, Kanye or the fake Rick Ross
f*ck a cosign, I hold mine close to the hip
Crushin' feelin's, leaving n*ggas on some emotional sh*t
Gangsta Gibbs
(Outro)
And I love the rap game (We love it, baby)
I love to see n*ggas getting, you know (Getting money, n*gga)
Get sh*t cracking, gettin sh*t popping, you know what I mean
Time to bring that money to the motherf*cking G, n*gga
Motherf*ckers been doing this sh*t for years
It's time for them motherf*ckers to be getting in this thang, baby
And if you ain't from G, n*gga, don't come to the G
Cause you ain't gon' understand the G
You gon' be laying in the G
Shoutout to all my n*ggas in the G, n*gga