Method Man, Streetlife, Denaun - Crooked Letter I lyrics

O-o-o oh! We have returned
Yeah, show you how to flow again
(show you how to flow again)
It's the rap rule again (hehehehe) Yo, yo

Street, Meth, we ride like AC and OJ
(y'all niggas crazy)
I runs up on you in broad days
I'm a Loose Link
I carry's the Heaterz, always small timers
Get left for dead in the hallways
It's that ill breed, move in warp speed
Follow my lead (Me and my Co-D's
About to OD) let me procede
I'm that OG, you're not in my league
(you know my steez)
I put the smackdown, on you killer clown MC's

I rock for all my niggas
(I rock for all my niggas)
That's why I hurt to be here, okay
Let me see here
Stat' Land, crooked letter is I, we back, man
Harder than a dick on viagra
Gettin' a lap dance
Hittin' like a back hand (I slap y'all kids)
As if we in a game of spades
And y'all renig'
John Blaze, not the clothing
Cuz some of that is slum
(Son, I'm already knowin') cut
They jeans mad young

In the Crooked Letter-I, it's do or die
Shit, every man fights to stay alive
In the Crooked Letter-I, you should not try
Meth Tical, Streetlife, Killa Bee, why

Stingy with my dough
Even stingier with dojia'
(Told y'all) You'll never go broke
Long as I owe ya
Maintain your composure, or party over
For stank bitches, who get it
Twisted like yoga holla for a dollar, yea
And y'all ain't gotta go home
(But y'all gotta get the fuck outta here)
Who stay "Lo" like Jennifer
Won't see me a lot
But when you see Vivica, tell her she a "Fox"

We rollin', big truck, sittin' on chrome
(twistin' a bone)
Talkin' to a bird on the bat phone
Zonin', out the area, roamin'
The closest you could come
To my style, maybe, is clonin'
The omen
(I'm warnin' you now) Niggas is holdin'
Run up, watch me put one up in your colon
Tinseltown town, thugs in the club
Like chicks posin'
Lambchop niggas is sheep in wolf clothing

Beware, danger, shoot off your flares
Warn all your dogs (tell 'em we here)
The Stat' (we don't bust our guns in the air)
Never that
Y'all don't come out til the coast is clear
(Who you suppose to fear) Street
I fears no one you all thumbs
I probably murder you with your gun
When I start lettin' off
(niggas is jettin' off)
You straight chicken broth
We holes in your terrycloth

Double O, 3, long time no see
Who mind parts seas, and cause blind to see
Some think this industry is just
All rhyme and G then he make it to the door
And he can't find the key
Don't know what it be
To make y'all follow my lead
Or make this pretty thing on
Her knees swallow my seed
If rap wasn't rap no more, what would it be
I don't know, I'd be zonin' sometime
Must be the weed that's that shit

Yeah, Homicide Housing, Loose Linx
Carlton Fisk, DC, rest in peace
To the Million Dollar Kid, Y
(SI, NY, 10304) Sick eyes, Size 7
Big Nut, what up
(Big up to Denaun, good lookin' on the track
Nigga matter fact, I'mma call Staten
Island the tri-borough, now on
Cuz we'll "tri" any fuckin'
Thing) Homicide Housing (Fuck y'all)