My brother Diaz made this.Ain't no smoke.Nigga's one of that Tory Lanez smoke.That ain't smoke.Bandwagon smoke.I want direct smoke.You feel me?Yo.It's almost 2020.Is your vision clear?I'm flipping homophones when you listen here.I'm standing in the booth to paint the picture clear.I'm revving up the motor with the engineer.Diaz hitting homers with the music flips.If you sell your soul, are you truly rich?Crook is soulless soul.I'm excuse me, bitch.I just lit a cigar on my Gucci kicks.Set them shits on fire.* them bougie pricks.Ain't gotta play a role.* them movie scripts.Ain't even hit the rim.Homies moving bricks.All my friends are dead.I'm grinding.Loading little Uzi clips.Click.I'm out here hitting direct targets.Maroon Dodger hat on the red carpet.To bark up a cigar on my live.That's Crook's Corner.Crook's still a coroner.Born in the West.Market Gator County jail.More time than I plan to share.I could do more behind these bars than I can in there.Said I never had a prayer.I picture God on his gigantic chair.Sending me lyrics to make the planet care.Holy Ghost Rider.Only Jehovah flow tighter.My flow is so cold.You zip your overcoat right up.Soak my dope right up.You won't overdose either.I'm so West Coast.We made this song with lowriders.Yo, wake up in the morning.Tell yourself you're great.Cause you're subconscious and conscious in a separate state.You gotta fuse them together as you meditate.Put the needle to the vinyl.Set the record straight.Then create the best * that you could ever make.Top floor mentality.Time to elevate.I'm getting better with time.I resonate with wordplay.I never wait for birthdays to get hella cake.I educate and entertain at the same time.I'm Chris Parker.I spit it for Spliff Sparkers.No getting at this author.My image is pitch dark.But I shine in my resume.It's thicker than Miss Parker.Still balling like Vince Carter.Not worried about * starters.A master in the mixed order.Sparring with bars, nigga.Hits harder.How did a kid with no father get farther?My discography is bigger than just slaughter.Nigga.Yeah.I got a message for the young guns.Nothing's more valuable than your loved ones.Don't let your soul escape when the funds come.Just let the kick and the snare solve your conundrums.It's cool to kick it with squares.* all them ***-***s.Cause death in the hood, that's what we run from.I got a couple of jewels if you want some.I'm someone adding value to the sum.One.Yeah.Do we fleece?We still praying for Jussie or what?Yo.Mayweather still need to change clothes or nah?Let me shout the queens again, man.Il Camille, Snow the Prada, you know.3D, Natty, Rhapsody.Gifted, Gab, Blinds.Too many to name.The OGs too.Yo-Yo, Lady of Rage, Yakaveli, Light, Balsa.And of course, Miss Lauryn Hill.The queens.I'll see y'all next week, man.I'll see y'all next week.
