Crooked I - D.O.C. Da Only Crook Lyrics




My Brother Dizz Made This
We back (We back)
The Weeklys (The Weeklys)
You know what it is, bark at ya dog (At ya dog)
Let's keep it funky though, who better?

One and in comes the you know
Call me numero uno
It's your musical funeral
Tool'll blow you to Pluto
The two for two in your culo
Ruthless, you in your crew know
Indisputable, beautiful
Blow out Oodles of Noodles
Bazooka shoot your menuto
Compare the Ruger to Judo
My crooper goin' stupider
What your shooters gon' do though?
Your every attempt is futile
Though zero kudos for you, hoe
You just choosin' your crucible fuckin' with you-know-who though (Who?)
Crooked is one a kind, comin' for mine
Jump in a line, I'm dumpin' a Nine
My syllable flow is like Pun in his prime
Hustle and grind, come up and shine
My trouble behind, recovered from wine
Look at the calendar, calendar [?] my days
I'm takin' it one at a time
I was sick doin' these Weeklys
Still got them shits off
Blowin' rappers clothes backwards, put 'em in a criss-cross
Medallion large enough to crucify you, that's a big cross
KXNG Crooked, Crooked I, two people, one name
Sort of like Rick Ross, all my haters pissed off
But never take the bibs off because they know I drip sauce
Squeezin' triggers with my middle fingers, you'll get flipped off at the same time 'cause I'm D.O.C

The only crook, the only crook
D-D-D.O.C
The only crook, the only crook
D-D-D.O.C
The only crook, the only crook
D-D-D.O.C
The only crook, the only crook
In my brand new Benz with the V-12 engine
Pistol on my lap, better watch your intention
Every single week another rapper I'm lynchin'
Each and every one scared to mention
The only crook, the only crook

They think they got it though
They delusional? I don't know
Scalp 'em like Jeronimo
Tell them haters to vamanos
Finally let the bottle go, I started from the bottom though
I slap 'em like some dominos
Even they baby mama know I'm hot as somethin' tropical
Used the third optical
Grew up in the streets, the link's in my biological
Ridin' with the yappa though
Nigga, that stick is Mop & Glo
Freaks got no option but to drop it low
My notebook is fly as hang-gliders, call it cliff notes
'Cause words dive off the page runnin' from that pen smoke
I used to keep a gauge in my trenchcoat
People called me crooked, never took it as an insult (Nah)
Where I'm from all our heroes are villains
The hood's upside down, we got our feet on the ceilin'
And beef ain't meat on the grill, the beef is squeezin' and feelin' type
Be a leak on the buildin'
Then we don't speak on the killin'
But who the real monsters?
They gave us food stamps instead of that 40 acres
Now the hood's goin' bonkers
I'm Dr. Dre mixed with Doctor Umar
Startin' the rap off gangsta and end conscious
I'm D.O.C

The only crook, the only crook
D-D-D.O.C
The only crook, the only crook
D-D-D.O.C
The only crook, the only crook
D-D-D.O.C
The only crook, the only crook
In my brand new Benz with the V-12 engine
Pistol on my lap, better watch your intention
Every single week another rapper I'm lynchin'
Each and every one scared to mention
The only crook





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