Goin' Bad - Crooked I, Keyana

[Intro: KeyAna)

I’m a motherfucking gangsta, I’m a, I’m a, I’m a

I’m a motherfucking gangsta

You run around the back while you covered in dough

You sitting in the 'Lac with that heat on the floor

It’s goin' ba-a-a-ad, ba-a-a-ad

Two knocks and I’m?

in babe

He say, give up the cash or we spraying the place

It’s goin' ba-a-a-ad, ba-a-a-ad

Yeah, you know the streets feed me and my associates

That bread and that fucking cheese on our grocery list

Pockets thick as an Atlanta girl, stroke us chicks

My new shit hit my palms with them poker chips

I’m doing business with red laces and blue 'Chucks

Now I’m in a white hood similar to Klu Klux

Two bitches, two AK’s and two trucks

Celibate twins, I don’t give two fucks

Treated me just like a dead roach so I swallow egg yolks and move heavy bags,

Al a Fred Roach

My baby got the ??

Give a player brains in the back of the plane, she my head coach

I’m loadin' up pistols, niggas full of jealousy

Ain’t nobody got this car, haters can tell it’s me

My garlic Benz with those pepper seats, every season I’m strapped,

you better reach (Nigga breathe!)

I know the feds are takin' snaps of my license

I meet with my partners they hit us with them tracking devices

We go get 'em remove then we hoppin' back in the Chryslers

It’s priceless them hidden camera’s in the back of the license

Welcome to the underworld, my nigga wait a minute

Nothing but gangstas in it, nothing but hookers getting high off everything

invented

You need a product then we gotta find a way to send it, we gotta play to win it

We gotta play like we the greatest in it, we gotta take the payment

I’m in the swamp alligator swimmin'

Niggas kill you over chains and 'em rim, momma raised 'em to win,

streets raised 'em to sin

Make a movie 'bout my life bring my face to the films

Tyler Perry can’t direct it, it’s too gangsta for him

(I-I-I-I'm a motherfucking gangsta)

And here’s how the movie begins

Opening scene you see my mother smokin' some green, my brother rolling porch up

and crack selling dope to the fiends, me?

I’m thirteen got some chrome in my jeans

I’m a hustler lookin' up to Freeway Rick

My traffic game so ill I made the freeway sick

Sent a hundred pounds outta town I’m caking for sure

Still living like my paper is low, here we go

You mistake me for a bitch tryna play with my dough

I got a automatic sprayer with no, serial

Reppin' sssutt sssutt C.O.B.

that’s my crew

Just some fly motherfuckers doin' what we do

Organised crime we outta your?

dummy

Fuck your Audemar our time worth more than your money

We combinin' all our energy to take over this industry our synergy symmetry is

finna be felt tremendously

Enemies is gonna remember me from Tennessee to Italy, mix some Hennessey with?

and make a toast

To the hustlers, the real ones

Real raps nigga real guns

California behind me, like I crossed the state line

Gucci belt, Gucci watch, that’s how I waste time

I said that’s how I waste time

You got the pelvis flow nigga you waste lines

Yeah

I’m in Long Beach ridin' out

Doing business with snitches that ain’t what Crooked I about

You niggas puttin' your head right in a Lion’s mouth

I’m puttin' bread on your head?

I’m puttin' bread on your head, like you pay for a blowjob

Spray you with no problems so calm

Kick in your door put your family in handcuffs

Slap you so goddamn hard your wife will man up

You run around the back while you covered in dough

You sitting in the 'Lac with that heat on the floor

It’s goin' ba-a-a-ad, ba-a-a-ad

Two knocks and I’m?

in babe

He say, give up the cash or we spraying the place

It’s goin' ba-a-a-ad, ba-a-a-ad

(I-I-I-I'm a motherfucking gangsta)