Grindin' Freestyle Lyrics

Crooked I – Grindin' Freestyle (The Wakeup Show Freestyle)
[Crooked I]
Yo, this nigga never going broke again, picture me poor
I walk in the jewelry shop, draw glocks, empty the store
Crooked’s a man-eating lion please don’t tempt me to roar
Ghetto enough to put hydraulics on a Bentley Azure
Pimp me a whore, tough talk I simply ignore
Thousand dollar automatic weapons defend me in war
I rock a stalking cap in case,
I gotta pull it right over my well-known face and lay down the whole place
Its killer Cal styzz-al, where crimi-nals prowl
My residu-als pizz-ile, my lyri-cal style
Make them niggas sound boot-G
It’s like you telling a statue to flinch, my nigga your words don’t move me
They make want to triple this gauge
And you suckers’ll be Gone in 60 Seconds, quicker than Nicholas Cage
You get no action, I beats mo’ ass than Joe Jackson
I tote magnums even if I go fo’ platinums
I blast that Enyce shirt, I’ll make your bitch drop her DK skirt
Cuz that’s how niggas in southern CA work
I stay swift, walk with my chest out like an Ese on May fifth
I’ll tell you you ain’t shit
Plus gangsta rap aint dead, it never died
It took steroids to the head and became Crooked I
On the “book placed by the Gideons”
We can feud like cowboys and Indians
Or Israelis and Palestinians
I didn’t wanna resort to this
But my cerebral cortex is a fortress where metaphors exist
Hit you with the force of Morpheus after I transform my fist
To a hammer too heavy for Thor to lift
Through a course of metamorphosis
The U-gang is more than sick
Sicker than newborn porn, swinging on some George Forman shit
Warn your clique, I’m coming, nobody’s fuckin’ with Mr. I-con
A natural born time bomb
You know I gotta drop cowards with nine millimeters of glock power
Drop trousers, do your girl in a hot shower, for a hot hour
Drop her off at the Watts Towers, the block’s ours
You seeing me not now or never
I’ll never let these snake niggas take me
I blow out brains to entertain me when I’m angry
I don’t tangle, I choke, strangle, break both ankles
Dangle you from a rope, clothes hang you from a cold angle
The Mangler so anxious to kill, able to spill
Ancient languages dangerous as 80 painkilling pills
Young jacker, Gucci hat tilted, gun clapper
I’m every artist Suge ever signed in one rapper
Chrome ending your life
I’m strong enough to stab you with the wrong end of a knife –
Gangsta type
And the lyrics that I quote, poke through my clothing
My father didn’t want me here but I broke through a Trojan…

It’s on - Wake Up Show It never stops on The Wake Up Show On The Wake Up Show, it can’t stop it’s Tha Ro-oh-uh-oh…

And we grindin’ and I keep a fo’ five in my lining…


*Click here to watch video of Crooked I on the Wake Up Show spitting the now classic Grindin' Freestyle


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