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    DJ Skribble / Lyrics

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    "What Cru Is Number One?" Lyrics

    DJ Skribble feat. Cru

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    Lyrics

    Yo how you feel about the Cru situation?
    You either love to cross the board
    Or cut throat with swords
    Givin me the middle finger? Get the bird absurd
    Screamin out Cru ain't a turd
    Alotta word from you niggas but no verbs
    Meaning no action, guess why'all just relaxing
    Waiting for the time to strike
    In the club catchin feelin, every time you hear,
    [says it with Mighty Ha]
    "Say night"
    The tighest face I've ever seen, but I don't give a fuck
    Don't make me let it out like a Dutch
    Then watch all why'all niggas shift like a clutch
    Ya man was loud now why'all sharing three bucks, down the middle
    Buck fity, buck fity,
    looking like Seal and shit, cause your real and shit
    Packin steal as shit, guns real as shit,
    large bills and shit, get the deals you prick
    Yogi on the crusade, to-get paid
    If two paired exist,
    you'd have me on the crucifix like Jesus crucified
    You did it to yourself Cru aside, fuck that,
    what's that it's just toast like Crutons
    We tasted in your tape deck when your Cru's on
    With some buck kids named Pete and Tuson
    Squril-nut and E-40, DLG Cru's gone

    What crew's number one?
    (The Rhytheme Blunt)
    What crew's number one?
    (The Rhytheme Blunt)
    What crew's number one?
    (The Rhytheme Blunt)
    What crew's number one?
    (The Rhytheme Blunt)

    Yo, Yo
    Nigga get your facts right or I gotta split you
    Cause ain't a damn thing hit you unless the chair hit you
    Look at-you, a clown, without make-up or
    Front on me forver rest without a wake-up call
    It's goin down, shit been went down
    Since the day I learned to save every red cent clown
    After all, I really want to, Mon-op-olize
    Exclusive control over products and its surprise
    So it ain't wise to rise, and put-up-a stand
    Lets get together put these highs and put up grands
    Income, no doubt, but I got news son
    You win some, with no clout, you bound to loose some
    So take heed wherever you make weed or make speed
    Niggas out there don't care, they'll make Jake bleed
    It's Cru son, retribu-tion for the past life
    Fast life-I refer to, as my last life
    But thugs push and shove, show no love
    So I go back to the future and blow most slugs
    Can't seem to get away from crime and gun wars
    Make some cheddar, and niggas want to run yours
    But fuck that, I buck back with precision
    A small Bronx cat, with accurate vision
    So you punk motherfuckers stay stuck in line
    Pop-in shit, why'all outta why'all fuckin mind

    [Now this ain't funny so don't you dare laugh]
    (Skribble and Slynke up in that ass)
    [Now this ain't funny so don't you dare laugh]
    (Skribble and Slynke up in that ass)
    [Now this ain't funny so don't you dare laugh]
    [This ain't funny(Skribble and Slynke)]
    [Don't you dare laugh(Skribble and Slynke)]{They overlap}
    [Now this ain't funny so don't you dare laugh]
    (Skribble and Slynke up in that)
    (IS HE IS HE)
    This song was submitted on October 18th, 2016.
    Copyright with Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group.
    Written by Anthony Holmes, Case E. Woodard, Chad Santiago, Daryl L. Young, Inga D. Marchand, Jeremy A. Graham, Jesse Bonds Weaver Jr., Kenny Kornegay, Mary J. Blige, Scott Ialacci.
    Lyrics licensed by LyricFind.

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