Crooked I - Hard In The Paint Lyrics
[Verse 1: Crooked I]Yo, they try to keep me out the ranks of the greatest rhymersBut I’ve been underground longer than Chilean minersFisticuff music, give the game a shinerCOB’s my true religion, minus gay designers[Verse 2: Joell Ortiz]No way I could sit around watch my homie getting downThis 2 quarters, one eighth for the sickest poundPound for pound, we’ll pound you outGirls say “yo, they fly”Can’t say dick, but yo they try, hit ‘em with a pound, ok byeGotta keep it moving like dope on the blockI post like Karl Malone in the spotQuiet with the jazz, I already spazzAnd I just gave Four Loko a shotMight wanna chill like wine in a restaurantWhat the “F” you want?Ain’t nothing over here but some gaspin’ for airAnd a nice little stretcher to stretch you onTrying to be so so cool and I go fool with the Pro ToolsI’m a student of the old schoolBut pass the torch or I’ll have to force you to play a little game of sudokuPut your days in numbersComing up I was poverty stricken with pain and hunger, that shit weak soYeah, I’m trying to eat like the mother*****ing day that they gave ColumbusNothing but flames amongst usWhen I say us, I’m talking about the slaughterI’m talking about the new world orderI rap that, make ball sacks a nice little snack for your daughterSo Hip Hop we fittin’ to hop you on your good footIt’s a problem when that Yaowa hook up with Sutt Sutt![Verse 3: Crooked I]Hit a nigga like pow, click click pow***** get down, spit 6 roundsThis kid’s downLiving in a whole another districtWith a thick ***** and a thick ***** get dicked downMy dick she put lipstick ’roundTake a twitpic, lemme slow this shit downI’m reloaded, 52 weeks this that marathon spitI wipe the earth’s face with you, Farrakhan shitOne day, I’mma buy you niggas on that Viacom tipThen take your ***** cause mami flies a cybertron shipRiding around with your vibrant thingLook at the dog that Crooked I becameGerman shepard, put sperm in your heiferRight by that hydrant manBET, top ten list, I ain’t mad cause I’mma be there laterTip my hat to shit like that, well-deserved I won’t be their haterIf anything I’mma be the creatorWho made a way for you to speak to your peopleOnce a week with that music leakNow look how loud my future speakInnovative, niggas hate it, I don’t care I rest in peace ‘emEat some beats like a decent feastIt’s yo’ instrumental, I just lease themI monster mash and beast themJust what it sound likeWhen anarchy, chaos, and pandemonium have a threesomeC.O.B. is getting money, what you boys thankBeamer, Benz or Bentley, I call my garage Lloyd BanksI’m feeling like I’m Baby watching the New Orleans SaintsMy creole *****, she got on panties, huh, no she ain’tLast of a dying breed I indeed iron squeezeFire weed, silverback gorilla if you buying treesDiamond rings, finer things, chain hotter than 99 degreesDine with Gs, wine and cheese, liar please, you minor leagueThe feds made me sell my Ferrari SpiderEastsider, sorry momma, I’m a riderFlyer than riding in coach, Marty SchottenheimerI will trade hard dick for some hot vaginaNo country unless your name is Crooked IRead my shirt, what it say? #OKBYEYou know I go hard in the paintHard in the paint I’mma go get it allYou don’t like that I’mma go get it allSuck my dick through that hole in the wallI ain’t slowing down for no nigga, nawStay out my way homie, don’t get involvedCause yo’ fittin’ to fallYou don’t know that my flow get in allI’m doper than ya’llI’m doper than ya’llI’m doper than ya’llI’m doper than ya’llI’m doper than ya’ll…
