Boardwalk Empire lyrics

by

Joell Ortiz


[Verse 1: Crooked I]
Inside the mind of this Eastsider
Our memories vivid enough for Scorsese to retire as screenwriter
Drug lords and police wires, drug wars and cease fires
And lying b*tches who sleep by us
The streets got they own set of rules
Better move with that Beretta tool and be ready to dead a dude
Cheddar rules everything around revenues
The evil us men do when we in the Devil’s shoes
Halos and heathens, angels and demons
Our payroll, got us on Rodeo at Nieman’s
But a-yo, lay low, ‘cause they know we schemin’
Quaalodes and yayo from Pedro we eatin’
Your pockets are rabbit ears, no Bugs Bunny
That’s the reason a Crip’ll get Blood money
I know some gangster disciples who got love for me
Some vice-lords moved to Cali and buy guns from me
And they’ll knock you, no matter where you’re at
Your fitted can get it: the concrete’ll wear your hat (wear your hat)
Where I’m at, wear a gat
Keep the piece, even if you keep the peace like that Arab cat Arafat
You’re married to the streets, this is where your marriage at
Like dude that married McJack, son ya get smacked
It’s bad on the streets, n*gga beat it
The young die and I won’t repeat it
Look at all these tricks and johns trying to get what the whores offer
In a pimp’s empire that b*tch is a boardwalker
They put blow on her stomach to snort off her
Then go to church and offer the lord copper
Pennies, later on he’s with his wife
While she on her knees swallowing all his STDs
See in this life of mine
I gotta be blurry on the details of my life of crime
Leave them 16 bars behind
So I don’t do 16 behind bars of those kinds
I’ma just recline and love what you fake rappers are spitting
I kinda like when you n*ggas rap what I’m living
I worship God just like a Catholic or Christian
But sssut-sssut-C.O.B. that’s my religion
I read the Quran and Islamic scriptures
Now I’m ‘bout to get Psalms on both arms my n*ggas
If I was born rich, I’d probably be Hip Hop’s Carlton Banks
But I grew up hard in the paint, walk the yard with a shank
Level 4 armor turn your cars into tanks
Nah this ain’t marketing, thanks
I ain’t trying to glorify my gangster life now
Just trying to rap my way into a safer lifestyle
Tired of homies dying ‘cause they don’t know enough
Probably why I’m never in the f*cking mood to sober up
[Break: Crooked I] (over Hello beat by Dr.Dre)
Real motherf*cking talk man
Rest in peace to all my n*ggas, I love y'all man
Oh yeah, I ain't forgot motherf*cker

[Hook: Crooked I]
Hello
I started this weekly sh*t
And this' the motherf*cking thanks I get?
Hello
I started this weekly sh*t
And this' the motherf*cking thanks I get?
Hello
I started this weekly sh*t
And this' the motherf*cking thanks I get?


[Break: Crooked I]
Ssuutt Ssuutt C.O.B. n*gga

[Verse 2: Crooked I]
52 weeks, a whole year campaign
Don't make me turn this one to a smear campaign
Look how they do me, they page two me
Until they retract that whack sh*t I don't wanna hear a damn thang
[Outro: Crooked I]
Hello, naw, I don't wanna hear nothing, you know I mean
You say my dude Kanye is a trend setter, love him or hate him (hello)
And that he is, hands down, he's a trend setter
But that motherf*cking trend right there
I set that trend, love me or hate me, you know I mean
Listen to this little quick story right here man
True story, when I was young
Some n*ggas tried to rob me at Gun Point right
On the Eastside on Atlantic Avenue
I was a young dude right
They rolled up on me
n*gga pulled out a 45, point it at my face
And he told me to give him everything I had
I told the n*gga to f*ck himself, true story
Might not have been the smartest thing
But it's what I've done, it's what I said
So you think you gone rob me? (hello)
And you ain't even got no motherf*cking .45
But you gone rob me? (haha)
You ain't robbing me man
n*ggas lost a million points with me
Whoever put that sh*t up need to retract that sh*t
Hello, I started this weekly sh*t
That marketing plan was me
Let's see who gonna go 52 weeks too
#OKBYE
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