Mr. Muthafuckin eXquire – Crooklyn's Finest Lyrics

PYONG!
0

You pyonged “Mr. Muthafuckin eXquire – Crooklyn'...”

Save Note No Thanks
Follow
Caution: You are now annotating this song as

[Intro]
Straight from Brooklyn, better known as Crooklyn
Never taken shorts cause Brooklyn's the borough


[Verse 1: D.I.]
Yo...so I guess I'm supposed to give a fuck
When I'm from a town where the attitude is stick 'em up

Pick 'em up, lift a clown in the air
Collision and cruise and it just ain't fair
Oh yeah... throw your neighborhoods in the air
Wave 'em around like you just don't care

As you can see I'm on some New York shit
Ride around in a whip with my BK clip

And you know done expanded and mixed it down
Linked up with some dudes from across the town

So... bitch niggas better show respect
Either that or you can fuck around and catch you a tech
And I'm not talkin' b-ball, talkin' about
When the drama pop off, I'mma really come and see y'all
See y'all, it's nothing to do
I wrote this rhyme in a cab on my way to the stoop

I'm so true, and you just don't get it
The flow that I kick is so exquis-idn't it?

The hot spit it, who'd the next fire?
DI on the track with Mr. eXquire
I don't know I can't see your peeps
I guess it must be something 'bout a primo beat
That make a nigga wanna show my ass
But I respect the classic track I'mma show some class


[Verse 2: Mr. Muthafuckin eXquire]
I'm lovin' the friends benefits, who's this bitch sucking my dick?
Funky style with thick chicks almost ruptured a discus
A B C shit, average kicks like Clay Russel's
Action packed like directed by Michael Bay fuck you
Jedi warrior, my third eye reads all of ya
The moratorium, sur-projects to crack emporiums
Spotters they get raided, international player
Mandolin bayonet-ers read they status straight to waiters
Paper chasers, my nigga cash cow through a stack house
My flow count won't knock out till the third round
Watchin' 'em serve how my world revolves around
Pussy, liquor, and kicks, I'm worried and hell bound

Fuck it, I wouldn't floss it, my chips
This quarter bag heavy, wouldn't cop it if I had to ask the price
Leonidus kick niggas in they chest for stunting
Damn all y'all cos weird, be frontin', yo shut the fuck up
Leader of the new school, defeated all you weak dudes
Duke nukin' nobody, all I see is the tool
This tribute, my retribution tell my enemies who
Left me for dead not knowing that would make me a goon

This is T, pity the fool, krunk it lame, knuckle game
Hitting niggas for stools, holding a bar 89
Mix, balance time with red wine,
Optimus Prime
Front flip on niggas and I pop my nine

[Verse 3: Money Slim]
Nobody does this shit quite like I can
Time to separate the MC's from the hype man

Switch up the game plan, I'm doing my thing fam
Got niggas plotting on me, but ask me If I give a damn

My aim's accurate, perfect, no flaws
Treat beef like pussy cause I'm quick with the drawers
The Nicolas Cage of this rap shit, yeah
Fly criminal homie I'm ConAir

Remarkable timing, you slipping I'm grinding
Where did you find him? this kid is a problem
Every line I jot is popping like cheap condoms

Easy pot and I'm hot, that's real rap
Don't get bent all out of shape, I'm just stating the facts
Making these cats understand, fall back
9 to 5, peel off, what's fucking with that
Nothing in fact, I'm making the meat they make
Posing they careers, causing competition to spectators
Yes haters, we keeping the game intact
EXquire, Money SL, nigga its a wrap

Edit song description to add:

  • Historical context: what album the song's on, how popular it was
  • An explanation of the song's overall story (example: "In this song, Eminem corresponds with a crazed fan who ends up...")
  • The sample used for the beat — use WhoSampled.com and wikipedia as references
Song lyrics have been changed by someone else. Copy your work to your clipboard and click here to reload.