Drum Murder - Crooked I, Horseshoe G.A.N.G.

Let the life lesson begin

Recite Reverend Wright rhetoric then

Be a motherfucker just like Oedipus and

Live by the sin commandments instead of the 10

Life’s better when you invite predators in

You should purposely misinterpret the 2nd Amendment

And buy a vest, ‘cause I don’t mean biceps when I mention

I’m bearing arms, yeah it’s 9/11 again

That mean I’m fly to the death: fly terrorist been

Sexin' your ex and her bisexual twin

Hittin' it from the back while I am texting her friend

I spit this shit live, I exit the pen

I’m a landmine nigga, die steppin' to him

Come through with the drama

I don’t mean a ménage à trois when I say «Fuck you and your mama!»

I’m a, deadbeat dad: I son bastards

Every rhyme in my head is an unwrapped gift

I’m a writer, with Mark Twain acclaim

Stark raving angry;

I’ll bite you

With sharp fangs that drain your vein

I’m flyer;

the archangel came to save

The Dark Ages, like arcades, the game it changed

The ‘U' Gang, start murdering drums

The four of us connect to the beat like heart chambers

Man, I got shooting guard game, I aim

This king flash heat: I’m LeBron James and Wade

Listen now you can call it boastin'

But I’m a superstar;

yeah you in awe

You and all your folks look close

I’m exuding all this dopeness

When I flow I’mma move in no emotion but anger

I can’t explain Newton’s Law of Motion

But when the tool gets drawn, you be ???

I don’t like you rappers' snide attitude

I knock you out the high-class like you dropped outta school

Y’all ain’t got bars like serviceless phones, yet you think you can bust

No lie, I got more lines than Cingular does

Don’t get it twisted like phone cords tangling up

I’m off the hook nigga, and I’m far from hangin' it up

They shake like cellies on vibrate when shit’s ringing

‘Cause I’ll hit you from long distance when banging a snub

Don’t question my excellence;

me wreckin' it is definite

Your life will stop when death ends it, by the .38 specialist

Death to whoever think they wrecking it better

I’m hot as being left in the desert while dressed in some leather

But cold enough to change the temp: I can mess with the weather

Have you questioning whether

My jab may be messing with Weather’s

My pen bleed black poison on inkpads

The shit I’m on is dope: I need rehab

No bullet can match how fast I throw each jab

I’ll hang you by your ankles and use your face as my speedbag

My niggas listen to this verse and see why I’m on some cocky shit

Won’t stop grinding ‘til my bills on some Cosby shit

I wish you would try to rob me for my rocky wrist

I swing on niggas over ice on some hockey shit

I come out to play when the day’s finished

See the gauge in the vague image of a crazed menace

You rain and miss shots, race through the rain dripping

I’ll move you into a ditch: you’ll become a grave tenant

My medallion is dressed in astounding Baguettes

Hangin' and danglin' from the rocks surroundin' my neck

A beast on my King Kong shit, pounding my chest

Constantly bustin' just ‘cause I love the sound of my TEC

Listen, got a problem?

Come try me

Come test if you want, it’s whatever

Point your Beretta, my knife is still under your sweater

You think you sick, we

I’ll put you 6 feet deep where the wind don’t blow

Now you really under the weather

Yeah, you really under the weather

You should’ve brung an umbrella

What’s the meaning of handgun?

Hand a gun to a fella

I’ll Heimlich the trigger, you die choking

My gun got a hole in its lung: it won’t stop smokin'

My son got a hole in his lung: it was shot open

Bloody «redrum» when we come is the block’s slogan

Get your spot broke in

Get your pockets ripped off

Nigga guap stolen

Before cops stroll in

I dipped off

Nigga, I go in

Macho men

Watch yo' chin

Ox-o-gen

Is leavin' your body

Collapse and you’re through

Gat’s finna spew

Cats introduced

To hell;

I’ll relax in your room

Chill under your bed, until I pump lead

Through the mattress and you

Yeah, I’m killin' niggas if I’m feelin' they want war

High off every pill in the drug store

Willing to kick in your front door

Now I’m stickin' my dick in your young whore

While she screamin' and kickin', I want more

I’m sick — the reason is unknown

What’s wrong with loadin' up my gun when a love song comes on?

And shit, this is what separates us from a bunch of regular rappers

Getting back to the frontrunners

C.O.B.

my religion;

I’m not atheist

Iced-out Nas alias: Godson

In the COB I’m a patriot, just like Tom Brady is

Keep a giant Colt, stay on my Eli and Peyton biz

Colt .45: now who wanna joke?

I give a nigga a hundred punches and cut his throat

Your favorite rapper’s a bitch — I say it unprovoked

I shoot a star like the rifle came with a Hubble scope

If you don’t know who we are, then you don’t wanna know

Your pistol was pointed at me, but you don’t want it though