I’ll Still Kill lyrics

[Verse 1: Crooked I]

I'm from the Eastside of Long Beach
Hustle on these cold streets
C.O.B. is mafia like a kiss on both cheeks
Pigs know what it is, f*ck the police
They killed my homeboy, no justice no peace
I need a C section, I'm overdue four weeks
I cut myself out of the belly of that known beast
I'm on the Eastside rolling with my OGs
n*ggas in the Beach love me
f*ck with me they gon' squeeze
Gangsta music, play it in the dark while you're drinking
It make ya do sh*t, have a gang banger anxious to feud with you
Empty chambers to it then blame the way they produced it, too sick
I should get an award for n*ggas I floored
To my n*ggas in prison, snitches should live in the morgue
Then I scoop up they b*tches and whores
My di*k big as a sword stabbing b*tches as thick as Melyssa Ford
Yeah I got the Bentley Coupe kitted
And I put it in the Beach before you know who did it
The windows too tinted, they wonder who's in it
Wait a few minutes, it's Mr. Dodger blue fitted
You don't believe me watch my DVD
I'm so Ice Cube I could have wrote for Eazy-E
I'm so Ice-T I should f*ck with Evil E
The whole West Coast is Crooked, he's a G
A California boss like Tookie Williams
f*ck Arnold Schwarzenegger cause the pus*y killed him
Watching it on TV with my homegirl
Made us get a tattoo that said "f*ck the whole world"
Some MCs you call the best rapper ever
Say I'm a legend, Crooked but yeah you rap better
Kick some more motherf*cking drug acapella
I say I'm so sick with the birds that I'm salmonella
My booster b*tch from the Bronx, her name Annabella
She give me so much Versace I call her Donatella
I need Prada, that's all that I gotta tell her
I can afford it but it's hella expensive being an honest fella
That's why I sit on the block, this is the plot
Listen to Pac, slang the medicinal pot
Some of my n*ggas detoxing like Bishop Lamont
Then they say alright f*ck it, let me get what you got
I'm trying to ride like Russell, getting richer n*gga
29 hustles but when you got side hustles
Cops want to kill you, n*ggas like trouble
So I keep pieces like 29 puzzles
C.O.B. for life, we some rich thugs
When we make it rain it ain't strip clubs
Make it rain bullets, I'm talking big slugs
West Coast to death, that's why I get love
(x2)