I Ain't Bullshittin

(album: House Rules - 2014)

[Hook:]
I ain't made it this far fucking round stanking ass bitches
I ain't made it this far slipping
So I ain't 'bout to start right now
Said I ain't bout to start right now, I ain't bullshitting
I ain't made this much money doing bad business
Or listening to stupid ass, goofy ass niggas
So I ain't bout to start right now
Said I ain't bout to start right now, I ain't bullshitting

[Verse 1: Royce Da 5'9"]
Never hesitate to up-and-touch your foes jaw
Bullet proof vest on fucking hoe's raw
Only fear I have is being a has-been
Only thing I care about is just who's been laughing
Dig a hole, make a box for soon as this craft ends
Or just put my ass in rehab with Charlie Sheen, three tabs
And some Jin for you to get madden in
We gon' sniff enough blow in here to kill two and half men
Niggas think I came off fast in this game laughing at lames
With a map of an immaculate passageway this spectacular fame
That's how they do you every time, they think you're fake
You ain't the truest until you make the papers then they sue you
That's when I tell you bitch to do it for this vine
She ain't gon' never say to me, she ain't gon' do it
Toast along journeys, I ride separate, only problem that I have
With the big motherfucker's a wide stretcher, in long gurney
Then you're gon' see a murder case deflate
When my attorneys apply pressure

[Verse 2: Joell Ortiz]
And press your bust pipes but I bet ya'
This pipe gon' bust a motherfucker head
If ever I catch her, why I disrespect her
Behind the scenes after playing the side lines
Dressed up in thug attire when they soft as a signal
When that Wi-Fi messed up, this a hot spot
Yeah right hater, play hop scotch or hot twot
I'm hot

[Hook]

[Bridge:]
Why in the fuck would I listen to haters?
Knowing damn well let 'em fuck with my paper
'til I die, I only listen to Crooked I

[Verse 3: Crooked I]
I ain't bullshitting
I keep it raw niggas rhymes deluded
Prostituting for the label nigga your mind's polluted
Go ahead try and dispute it
They building an army full of niggas willing to sell their soul and they asshole
That's the kind recruited, a sucker born every second time's computed
Just grab a nine and shoot it
Hyper-feminine rapper claim your troops
Let you lynch me in the orchard before I hang with fruit
Unless they of Islam, I'm just saying the truth
Rather hear me rapping bout bitches giving brain in a coupe
I know, but I'm ill a G, like make it some trilogy
Not three movies I mean something that Pimp C would say, a trill-a-G
And I'm sicker than mixing liquor with Henney-cillin
I'm chilling in my coupe with no roof and I could see the moon shining
Like whiskey in Tennessee
No Jordan but a brick or key is 23
I'm the biggest thug of them all with a street poetry
I leave blood on the wall so the streets know it's me
Crooked I, last rapper that won't compromise
Real nigga, they probably want me ostracised
I'm the nigga you can't colonize, not for dollar signs
I don't care if my profit rise, long as I prophesize
Long as I'm the non-fiction documentary and you the nigga that dramatized
No need to apologize, put your sorries in your big pocket
Make up a dance to have a chance nigga, I rather Big Pac it
I'd rather Pun L it, I'd rather Beans Jay it, I rather Em Nas it
I don't listen to you goofy niggas take on it
That's why the beemer got the temporary plates on it
That's why XXL got your nigga's face on it
It's 97 Bad Boy, this my Mace moment
(Amen)