KXNG Crooked – 52 Weeks lyrics

[Intro]
They got gloves that turn sing language into audible speech Invented by a black man
But 'y'all say we all on the streets
It ain't my fault I was born poor without a dollar in reach
Momma couldn't afford the hills we in the jaws of the beast
Where niggas is drawing heat
Killers got bodies crawling all in the grease
You scared to call the police cause they kill us too
I used to find my solace in beats
'Till radio kicked conscious rappers of the air for hollering peace
52 weeks man

[Bridge]
Yeah
Greatest moment of my career is when I stopped rapping for Money
Yah mean
Do this for the love
You be the best you I be the best me
That's how I see it anyway
(My Brother Dizz Made This)
Let me tell y'all my story

[Verse]
We was born in the gutter but my brother had some hope
Before the Carter I saw them naked bitches baggin' dope
The tanning of America my bro was stacking notes
Never wanted to be Pusha T when he was wrapping coke
Five years younger but I understood the hunger
Old Magic Johnson hoodie my stomach rumbling under
So I done some pussy shit made a nigga run his hundreds
Put a gun up to his head yeah I went out like a sucker
My og homie told me we ain't thieves boy we hustlers
(We not thieves we hustlers man)
Section eight apartments, killers in the courtyard
Slangin' ragnarock bigger hammer than the Norse God
Chillin' with some villains on Artesia that's the North side
Life is a game of death I'm strapped sitting court side (pow pow)
Because I had mad enemies
Picking up a gun is giving me bad memories
I can touch the steel and feel bad energy
Fuck it I tuck it I'm trapped in the streets
But my wisdom it eclipses Socrates real nigga philosophies
Lyricist copy me and my spit is cinematography
I been deep in the trenches, homeless sleeping on benches
Where peoples interest is speaking on vengeance I mean revenge Against poverty
How could you rate my bars properly if you ain't never starved Sleeping on abandoned property?
When in a pinch I'm sinning against the god in me
All this evil shit we do to go on a shopping spree
Though I walk through Cali's valleys of death
I crucified my pride then I resurrected a god mc
I rap harder than Flint's tap water
Attack the art of rhyme longevity
I manslaughtered grandfather time what artist harder
That's hard to find flipping dollars
Michael Jordan's flu game I'm the sickest baller
While your Black Cards decline cats far behind
Yeah these crack bars are mine
That's why bitches holler
See your raps aren't the kind real niggas follow
You rap for snitches who get you collared
You rapper niggas giving tips to that chick Kamala
Niggas dropping dimes in the Golden State like Iguodala
The black king it's T'Challa in the sick Impala with the semi I'll
Remy Ma ya the projectiles my stepchild
Making crazy niggas bounce I'm like Mark Rubio mixed with a Marsupial
I politic with the baby in my pouch pull it out like a trio of Percosets
380's in your mouth
I'm out