KXNG Crooked, Joell Ortiz - Cornflakes lyrics

KXNG Crooked: ]
Yeah
These streets is cold, nigga
They killin' niggas in parked cars and shit
Keep your head on a swivel
Keep that machine on you
Yeah
Live life and rap about it
Rap about it, nigga

I could lay niggas flat as a underscore (But)
It's my art I want you to love me for
I could show you the guns I brung to war
Why would I jump off the roof for the
Feds and hang myself with a bungee cord?
Long arm of the law
Don't let them suckas reach us
Some of you haters, spectators
Leavin' your nose bleedin'
In the upper bleachers
And you rap niggas, fuck your features (Word)
The God flow touch your speakers
You need to come to Jesus
Don't count the bars on this one
So many fire lines
It's gon be hard to pick one
I'm just baring my soul over
Guitars and kick drums
You remember every word I record, wait
Let me tell you a story
September 23rd is my born date
Little Crooked
Shaking roaches outta my cornflakes
Nothing trendy, all my fashion was worn late
Mama's smokin' a joint
Gettin' higher than the divorce rate
My pops was a navy vet, overheard him
Yellin' "We ain't got no money
Them crackers ain't pay me yet"
We was in crazy debt
I could see why he maybe left
His white counterparts runnin'
And he takin' baby steps
Mama's solo now
She's throwing Aretha Franklin
She dance around with a
Smile, but underneath
She achin'
I'm being ignored in class
I think my teachers hatin' the
Value I placed on
Education's depreciatin' (Drop out)
My brother started slanging dope
Gave him hope
It's like they gave him more life
When they gave him coke
Yeah, he bought me a starter jacket
My favorite coat
My cousin was bangin'
He told me "The streets ain't a joke"
(Nah)
Then he put a gun in my hand
Yeah, rusty 38 with tape on the handle

Bumpin' NWA, starch in my dickie pants
Yeah, bad boy at the party
Doin' my itty dance
Yeah, if it ain't about hoes
I ain't have any plans
It was me and my nigga, Bo
My man fifty grand

He had a beef with his older brother
Shot him over nothin'
Hunnid tears dropped as he told his mother
Damn, why he do bruh that way?
One in the pen, one in the grave
She lost two sons that day
I bought two guns that day
Nah, I'm lyin' 'cause I didn't buy 'em
Man
We hit a lick at the pawn shop
Drove a crackhead's truck right
Through the front
Non-stop, glass crashin'
It sound like a bomb drop
Alarm going off crazy
I grabbed the duffel bag
With some watches and jewelry and it
Ain't got a couple mags
Bounced out of that bitch
Went to my uncle's pad
Thinkin' I'ma end up in jail
Just like my brother's dad
Damn, it's the environment, bro
Crime is a full-time job
Ain't no retirement tho
Old man told me
"Your generation is violent for sure
And the cemetery's the only place
You dyin' to go"
(Go, go)
And he gave me a book
Called "The Destruction of Black
Civilization" by Chancellor Williams

Opened my mind to some knowledge
I never had before
Yeah
Started readin' more books, went
Down a rabbit hole
Yeah
All your ignorant questions
I got the answer for
Like, "Why y'all stuck in the hood
Actin' like animals?"

Poverty's pandemonium
Red-lining the properties
Probably that colonial cologne you got on
I could smell racism in the institutions
The victimizer victimize ya and say
"Stop being a victim"
The shit's confusin'
So when I be cruisin' the Benz
That shit is a big illusion
You writin' songs about your diamonds
My gems are in the music
Unify today or you can die today
To keep them roaches outta your cornflakes
You decide the way
But if you go down the wrong road
You know how the story go
(They got ya)
Say hello to the homie Bo (Hey, what up?)

Niggas homeless and hungry but they
Don't want us doin' crimes
Stole the whole fuckin' country but we
The ones who doin' time
Keep my third eye open
I pay attention to the signs
To my homies that died
See you on the other side

I see y'all on the other side
Not now, I got a lotta story left, you know
East Side