Atmosphere Crewed Up Lyrics

Crewed Up Lyrics

[Verse 1 - Stage One]

They call me Bad Lieutenant when my eyes are
squinted

Child of the 70s and the 80s was in it

Lost the first
homeboy in the 9-0 and liable

To get the gun buckin at 5-0, I'm
tribal

I'm from a place where the *niggas* are jelly

And pretend to
be your friend and put one your belly

And you can keep on yelling, the
cops won't come

You want beef, we got burgers and then some

We from
the era when we learned on our own

Runnin wild in the streets with both
parents at home

Kind of hard to find a young un alone - caused we was
crewed up

Taggin on the walls taught wars and getting chewed up



[Verse 2 - St. Paul Slim]

Now I don't know about y'all, but I'm
bout to make a small fortune

By taking small things and blowing em out of
proportion

Using sarcasm as my second language

Look mom I'm famous,
I mean I'm flagrant

You say you write your best rhymes when you high

I say I write my best rhymes cause I'm fly

This is why I'm cold, I'm
Minnesota nice

If you want my CD I will give you special price

Haha, take Trummond's advice

St. Paul Slim the best homie, none of its
hype

So please lil asshole, keep your mouth closed

'Fore your momma
be like "Look at my son, he out cold"



[Verse 3 - Muja Messiah]

You could tell I'm focused by the look in my eye

You could see I'm
dirty by how clean my kicks is

You know I tell the truth, I got no reason
to lie

Hey, like I tell my chicks "You ain't got a lotta kick it"

All I'm trynna do is get a piece of the pie

And turn these bricks into
a legit business

Now run along and go home to your wives

And leave
me and Slug here to play with these bitches

You know I spit the sickest
sickness since syphilis

Mixed with malaria, fuck it, the more the
merrier

B-Boy, D-Boy, yep I'm in your area

Muja Messiah uh huh,
hello America



[Verse 4 - YZ]

Yo, yo, y'all wack, yo what the
fuck is new?

I'm back wit Atmos and the crew

To do this you need
style, I thought you knew

It's not a diss, yo it's just my point of
view

Maybe if I turn sideways, y'all *niggas* will

Throw lyrics my
way instead of the highway

Now getting ran over by cars and Land
Rovers

We starred, you sub par, maybe send your man over

Pardon,
you gon' step to this

Spit phat, not anorexic shit

Come stacked
boy, it ain't no need to go there

I knock rappers out, y'all scratch and
pull hair



[Verse 5 - Brother Ali]

I hustle hard for the love
of god

My life has been the biggest struggle for the bloody start

I
knuckle up and throw the hands of my thug at heart

So when the shit hit
the fan I don't come apart, I breathe and shrug it off

Atmosphere - the
Big Brother's big brothers

Catch is here to turn king to wrist
cutters

Just trust it ain't no regular shit

That's a polite asshole
and a sensitive pimp

You would think it was a party, not a Cadillac

Church mosque, have a knack

Dr. Dre Training Day rappers don't know how
to act

Remove em all from my sight like a cataract

Poof! It's a
magic act



[Verse 6 - Toki Wright]

Walk over beats like DMC,
three stripes

Leaver be three strikes, visa need three swipes

DVDs,
jeans clean, cuts brush dandruff

Mobile phones, suited loan, courted blown
pampers

Chilling at the party in B-Boy stance

And they looking at me
funny, why? Cause they can't dance

So I'm cutting up and shutting up, I'm
buttercup but just enough

To lean on top of this metropolis with
binoculars

Walk like a pimp, think like a Macintosh

Battle scars,
also trynna figure out your avatar

Leave the cameras on, told ya partner
that he can't perform

Brought a torch to burn the building, he think I'ma
hand it to him



[Verse 7 - Blueprint]

Yeah, yeah, I solemnly
swear

To fight the good fight as long as I'm here

But sometimes the
good fight don't seem fair

Cause all the best soldiers we had ain't
here

They gone now, we all on our own now

And most of those left
ain't got no style

You give em an inch they try to take a whole mile

Too overconfident to keep a low profile

Pump your brakes, stay in your
lane

A bunch of fakes chasing fame

I'll punch your face and take
your chain

Sit your 5 dollar ass down before I make change



[Verse 8 - Slug]

Break these chips down, count your business

Ain't nothing free, it's a James Brown Christmas

So god bless the
underground now and give it

To the sound of the drums while none of us
outlive it

I treat Hip Hop like a sport

Stay on my game, put my
time on the court

While you complain and get high some more

Might
explain why your team can't find support

Now catch me in the back wit a
whisky

Chattin up a missy like I'm attractive and witty

I have to
dip to do my raps and get busy

Why don't you come see me when I'm back in
your city?