[Intro: Crooked I]
Hold on, hold on
We got Crooked I on the beat box
And we got Jay-Z on the mic
Let's go!

[Jay-Z]
I’m a BK brawler
Marcy projects hallway loiterer
Pure coke copper, get your order up
I bring 'em to Baltimore in the Ford Explorer
But it's gonna cost you more if I gotta get ’em to Florida
Rucker game attender; with the Bent parked
On the sidewalk with the temp plates on the fender
I ain't hard to find you catch me front and center
At the Knick game, big chain in all my splendor

[Crooked I]
Hold on, hold on, hold on
Bring that shit back, man

[Verse 1: Jay-Z]
I'm a BK brawler
Marcy projects hallway loiterer
Pure coke copper, get your order up
I bring 'em to Baltimore in the Ford Explorer
But it's gonna cost you more if I gotta get 'em to Florida
Rucker game attender; with the Bent parked
On the sidewalk with the temp plates on the fender
I ain't hard to find you catch me front and center
At the Knick game, big chain in all my splendor
Next to Spike if you pan left to right
I own Madison Square, catch me at the fight
With Cam, once again if you pan left of his ice
It be the man that write checks with the hand that don't write
I go, off the head when I’m rambling on the mic
And I throw, off the Feds when I’m scrambling at night
And it was often said, I brought hammers to the fight
But we from New York City, right Cam?
[Verse 2: Crooked I]
Even if you had nine lives just like a kitten cat
I take all 9 of 'em from you quick as I grip a gat (Blaow)
You might hear some applause when I spit the sickest rap
Hear a n***as gun clappin’ when you gettin' whacked
See I'm a gangsta my fuckin' enemies couldn’t damage
I grew up facin' the kind of anger I couldn't manage
I got them God given talent, so Crooked took advantage
The Crooked manish
I'm hungry dog, lookin' famish
I shook your vantage
Unseen but now I'm back, n***a
One pull of this trigger, you spillin' mad liquor
I calculated my moves to make my math quicker
I rap slicker to stack figures, the track ripper
This California Crooked, West Coast skyscraper
You faggots ain't nothin' but maggots on my fly paper
I committed the lone heist, I mean a sly caper
And my paper buried up under 5 acres
I know the meanin' of questions that n***as can't answer
Gonna flip you around just like a breakdancer
Got the will to survive, man, I could shake cancer
Down to rob me a bank like Oakland's eight Panthers
I'm O.G. with it and no, he didn't
Walk across The Source Awards stage rockin' a Long Beach fitted
In a coup with coach seats in Long Beach with my chrome feet spinnin'
And a quarter piece to show he's with it
I'm so gangsta!
[Outro]
Ha, ha
Young Boss Volume One, n***a
Mixtape for the streets
Dynasty Records, n***a, the empire
Shouts out to all my n***as out West
Ya know
Compton, Carson, Hawthorne, Watts, Long Beach, n***a
Inglewood
What else, n***a
Shouts out to all my n***as out East
My live n***as
In Brooklyn, Bed-Stuy, n***a
Yeah
Brownsville, never ran, never will
Yeah, n***a
Flatbush, what up
My n***as in Queensbridge
My n***as in Jersey City
My Philly n***as
Ya'm talkin' 'bout
Uptown n***as
Yeah
It's ya boy
It's ya homie
Crooked I, n***a
I'm in your city
Holla at me
My dirty, dirty South n***as too
Yeah
Houston, n***a, the H
Humpty Hump, n***as
Sucka Free Records
My n***as at Rap-A-Lot Records
Yeah
Shouts out to my n***as on the muthafuckin' Midwest side of things
Ya know
Chi-Town, n***a
Oklahoma
Tulsa, Oklahoma, n***a
On the Northside
OKC
This for all my n***as, man
It's your homeboy
It's your homie
Young Crooked
Dynasty Records, n***a
It's over… over...over...
Or is it?
Do you know how many rappers that this boss inspire?
Back up off this squire
You can all expire
When my dogs get fired up
It's Crooked I from the lost empire
My Glock spit fire
Man, your jaws get wired shut, what?!
Start up the controversy
I rap with a vest under my Dodger jersey
My infamous spit, finishes and diminishes killers
This menace is quick
Sinner's finna rip lyricists
Kick limitless, venomous lyrics from the genesis
Give witnesses hemorrhages
Scrimmage ya big nemesis
It's me!
Bash you
Crack you with the back of a [?]
Faggots will nap exactly where maggots and rats do
In fact, I mini MAC any cat you attached to
Braaaap, braaaap
Your hat is a package of Ragu
You talkin' to bosses
Wait a minute
We take hostages
Lock 'em in closets
Till they all sick and nauseous
From oxygen lossage
I box 'em in coffins
I'm toxin to talkin'
The Glock finna pause it
Stalk you for blocks
Till your lost and exhausted
Holocaustic, n***a
My rhyme flow reach you (Your ass)
Drill you and kill you in 5, 4, 3, 2, 1, n***a
Young Boss Volume One
Stay tuned to the next episode
Dynasty Records
It's official
Ha, haaa