(Crocker) / Buh buh bastards, what the motherfucking blood clot?/ Informer! Been talking shit since my nuts dropped/ No weed, just speed, I'm ski'd from the feet/ Impede then concede, cause they see what it be/ They try lead then they leave, son believe that it's me/ Squeak then they teethe, when I breathe and I speak/ Lovelorn Records, Daddy Warbucks tapped out/ Wu Version 2, know your role, we got it mapped out/ Gee...Golly...Willikers/ P.E. Number One, John Dillinger/ Got Queens, Kakalack, Got Philly & The D/ They fill me with conceit, we deal on the beats/ Keen with the speech, it's bleached in the teeth/ Word heave till I'm green, piques, piques then you cream/
(Krosswordze) On beat/ It's the veteran's mood on a song/ Street/ But so cleverly
subdued on a tone/ Better move for me "homes"/ This is food for the dome/ Done wrong now I'm levitating in a zone/ Regardless/ I'm landing on
target/ No matter the bars fit//Nobody's gonna match my status / Not
on some car shit of far shit or even some star shit but/(Allen I,
couldn't match my practice )
I'm on my feet like a run-away slave and it's driving me crazy/ (They
wonder what it takes to beat him)/ I figure the sun rise when I right one
line/ They want it dumb down/( But nigga I can taste my freedom)/
For the fact that I rap as an older dude/ I let the verse get a hold of
you/ Take control of you/ In the rhythm I'm gonna kill them when I hit
them with a written/ That's what Lovelorn supposed to do/
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