Lyrics of ' 40 Barz ' by Crooked I
If you've been searching for the lyrics of the song 40 Barz by Crooked I for a long time, start warming up your voice, because you won't be able to stop singing it.
Yeah, Crooked keep a German Luger, a Bazooka and three vest
He's not from Cash Money but man he's fresh
Ever since I was a baby I was about them millions
All about my paper like my name was Slim Williams
We kill like we primitive, warn women and children
Them wig pillin' henchman have just entered the building, toaten' things with 'em
See I've been packing heaters since niggaz was wearin' adidas
With no strings in 'em, Crookeds flow bring venom
I'm hungry as if my pockets had no G's in 'em
Unload heat hit 'em, the strap spark it
You collapse on a shack carpet, the gat's heartless
Watch it hit the exact target, act hard bitch
we love it when cats start shit
Kill 'em and sell their vital organs on the black market
How many songs must I fucking record?
That a thug ?, till he's runnin' the board
Fuck a couple awards; I want the cover of Forbes
Nigga try to stop that is gettin' stucked with a sword
You don't need nicotine to put a hole in your lung like emphysema
Cause I can do it quick with this trigger finger
Attitude on the mic like Ike when he was sick of Tina
Switch the demeanor, when I'm in a 360 Modena
Fuck a subpoena, a felony or a misdemeanor
Nigga wanna snitch on me, watch how quickly I click the Nina
Yeah, rappers think they hot enough to do me
I'm way ahead of you nigga, you need binoculars to view me
I suck you up and if you think I'm popular then sue me
Your body's poppin' up in two weeks
That don't rhyme, this insane cat don't mind, to add on line
I spit game like Pat O'Brien, big thangs, I don't plan on dyin'
My nick name is Spit flame, quick aim, I keep my hand on iron
And I don't really wanna have to point this pistol at your throat
And send you to somebody who took the Hippocratic oat
Switch it up, each rhyme is vivid, each line is I live it
It's a movie, nigga, these are some cinematic quotes
Your verse sound plastic, just another hers bound bastard
In a dirt ground casket, Crooked is a first round draft pick
In the first round get your ass kicked and die in the first round blasted
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