W2CC

(album: The Weeklys, Vol. 3 - 2019)

The Weeklys
We back
My-My Brother-Brother Dizz-Dizz Made This

Now it's old versus young, that shit is kinda corny
If you autotuned your album, you probably ain't rhyming for me
I know old has rappers who weep and they kinda bore me
Either wack or you dope, the only two categories
Setting fire to these beats, homie, that's manadatory
If I'm raping classic tracks, it's too old to be statutory
Most the rap media so pussy they had me horny
Plus they sleeping on the west, so they telling you half the story
First they love the homie Em, then they made him a vulture
Got love for you, Slim, won't let a hater insult ya
Know what I thought about? Hmm
Without Slaughterhouse it's an everyday struggle to watch the state of the culture
Nah, that ain't a shot at Joe 'cause we was all on rapper's heads
Now the game feel sedated, we relaxing on some meds
Even though the game is ours, I like Charlemagne the God
'Cause how can I not applaud? He's blacker than most celebs
Plus he know the ledge
How many rappers are keeping it real?
I be on the edge, you rappers are giving me reason to kill
Loading the chrome with lead
Squeezing the steel, people get killed
Sleeping for real, leaving a will
Worshipping money, they don't believe in skill
Told 'em to go to bed

Welcome to Crook's Corner
It's G's everywhere, the planet is California
There's beef everywhere, you slip and you'll be a goner
Police everywhere, they working with them informants
Rappity, rappity, rap, I don't give a fuck
Crackity, crackity, crack, niggas pushing drugs
Blackity, blackity, black, lift my people up
Happily live happily ever after

Welcome to Crook's Corner
These young niggas got the block hotter than Arizona
You see that green cross? That's the spot with the marijuana
Got high with a pair of stoners, dozed off like it's Melatonin
Woke up, I was so smashed, I forgot my own phone number
Then I hopped on Instagram to laugh at the troll hunters
Doing fuck shit for fame, faster than road runners
If you fuck with my game, I'm snatching your soul from ya
African soul brother, that's the shit he be on
Y'all throw a peace sign right after you empty your chrome
Just let the beef slide, on top my city belong
I throw up east side, rocking five Infinity Stones
So what that beach like? Zoom, I'm rushing passed a hater
In order to catch me, they need a Flux Capacitator
Yeah, you was real tough until you touched an affidavit
Yall think dope dealin 'a gift, I'd rather fuck with wrapping paper
Used to ask for collabs, I was reaching for some help
These rappers fear the collabs, keep the features on the shelf
I don't need nobody else, I'm superior
Like taking a nap on a mirror, guess I was sleeping on myself
Welp

Welcome to Crook's Corner
It's G's everywhere, the planet is California
There's beef everywhere, you slip and you'll be a goner
Police everywhere, they working with them informants
Rappity, rappity, rap, I don't give a fuck
Crackity, crackity, crack, niggas pushing drugs
Blackity, blackity, black, lift my people up
Happily live happily ever after

Yeah
Yah'mean?
It's the Weeklys
Shout out Colin89, WolvesOverHumans, FaithAdam
RyanUrasie, yeah
Where we at?
Oh, we going into, uh, volume three?
Yeah, this the beginning of volume three, I guess
I'ma continue to put my cigar out on these fuck ass rappers
Yeah, real shit
I fuck with y'all though
If you see me, you already know
Bark at your dawg