D.O.C. Da Only Crook

(album: The Weeklys, Vol. 5 - 2020)

My Brother Dizz Made This
We back (We back)
The Weeklys (The Weeklys)
You know what it is, bark at ya dog (At ya dog)
Let's keep it funky though, who better?

One and in comes the you know
Call me numero uno
It's your musical funeral
Tool'll blow you to Pluto
The two put two in your culo
Ruthless, you and your crew know
Indisputable, beautiful
Blow out Oodles of Noodles
Bazooka shoot your menudo
Compare the Ruger to Judo
My crooper going stupido
What your shooters gon' do though?
Your every attempt is futile
Though zero kudos for you, hoe
You just choosing your crucible fucking with you-know-who though (Who?)
Crooked is one a kind, coming for mine
Jump in a line, I'm dumping a Nine
My syllable flow is like Pun in his prime
Hustle and grind, come up and shine
My trouble behind, recovered from wine
Look at the calendar, counting up all of my days
I'm taking it one at a time (Yeah)
I was sick doing these Weeklys
Still got them shits off
Blowing rappers clothes backwards, put 'em in a criss-cross
Medallion large enough to crucify you, that's a big cross
KXNG Crooked, Crooked I, two people, one name
Sort of like Rick Ross, all my haters pissed off
But never take the bibs off because they know I drip sauce
Squeezing triggers with my middle finger, you'll get flipped off and Clipped off at the same time because I'm D.O.C

The only crook, the only crook
D-D-D.O.C
The only crook, the only crook
D-D-D.O.C
The only crook, the only crook
D-D-D.O.C
The only crook, the only crook
In my brand new Benz with the V-12 engine (Skrrt)
Pistol on my lap, better watch your intention (Word)
Every single week another rapper I'm lynching (Ya heard)
Each and every one scared to mention
The only crook, the only crook

They think they got it though
They delusional? I don't know
Scalp 'em like Geronimo
Tell them haters to vamanos
Finally let the bottle go, I started from the bottom though
I slap 'em like some dominos
Even they baby mama know I'm hot as something tropical
Used the third optical
Grew up in the streets, the link's in my biological
Riding with the yappa though
Nigga, that stick is Mop & Glo
Freaks got no option but to drop it low (Low)
My notebook is fly as hang-gliders, call it cliff notes
Words dive off the page running from that pen smoke
I used to keep a gauge in my trenchcoat
People called me crooked, never took it as an insult (Nah)
Where I'm from all our heroes are villains
The hood's upside down, we got our feet on the ceiling
And beef ain't meat on the grill, the beef is squeezing and feeling Type
Be a leak on the building
Then we don't speak on the killing (Shh)
But who the real monsters?
They gave us food stamps instead of that 40 acres
Now the hood's going bonkers
I'm Dr. Dre mixed with Doctor Umar
Starting the rap off gangsta and end conscious
I'm just D.O.C

The only crook, the only crook
D-D-D.O.C
The only crook, the only crook
D-D-D.O.C
The only crook, the only crook
D-D-D.O.C
The only crook, the only crook
In my brand new Benz with the V-12 engine (Skrrt)
Pistol on my lap, better watch your intention (Word)
Every single week another rapper I'm lynching (Ya heard)
Each and every one scared to mention
The only crook