KXNG Crooked - Dead Or In Jail

Dead Or In Jail Lyrics

[Hook: Kxng Crooked & Jessica Quintero]
I came from nothing, I always wanted something
They told me I would never succeed
I would only end up dead or in jail
I'm free, I'm alive, I got money
I ain't dead or in jail
I ain't dead or in jail

[Verse 1: Kxng Crooked]
It's funny how you niggas think you harder then the hardest
Picture me debatin' no time to argue with you artists
If you do a song with me I'm probably just targeting your market
And then I take them home with me and win that argument regardless
You hustle to be seen, I read that on a meme
I get paper and disappear call that vanishing cream
Yeah I do work with the Slaughters
But I'm so on top of my business that I probably go harder
Part of the management team
I just step into the booth after I executive produce
And I'm as effective as a noose ‘cause hoes wanna hang
Cook me breakfast in the nude, scramble eggs, I’m sipping juice
And I still conceal steel, that Beretta is recluse
I’m from the Mass Terror era
You from the Mascara era
So never ever compare yourself to that rapper that’ll lead your New Era dripping that marinara
For a pair of paramedics to repair ya where you’re laying at
I’m sayin’ cat, get away from me with them Gucci sneakers
You ain’t fashion forward as Kanye, I guess we do need Jesus
I’m in my Coupe, I’m rocking a few jewelry pieces
Playing some unheard Eminem, like fuck your new releases
My team can inspire millions
The flow been fire, ask the native NY’ers
Like the Empire Building, I’m just empire building
When grown folks are talking, quiet children


[Interlude: Kxng Crooked]
Shout out Jurassic 5
Pharcyde and De La Soul
Digable Planets
And the almighty Tribe Called Quest

[Verse 2: Kxng Crooked]
Let’s get back to the jam doe
You rocking with new friends, I’m surrounded by fam doe
That part is mando, I don’t understand your ass
Get a little fame, get a little name, then forget the same from which you came
That ain’t who I am doe
Keep shit the same, for damn sho
And if your dame, is on her best behavior, tell her she can text me later
I guess that’s kinda boss
But this game made the word boss so lame
I prefer to be referred to as a check creator, slash regulator
Slash nigga that pull your respirator plug
I’m killing ‘em ‘cause this game keep giving me hell
They only want me selling crack so they can give me a cell
But I spit crack to let my freedom ring, now that’s Liberty Bell
Fuck it, give me a scale
It’s pure dope, I could sell it forever, who better
Hold up, I beg your pardon, the mac-11 weapon spark
You get severed in several parts ‘til a 7-footer is leveled with Kevin Hart
187’s the deadly art and every bar is cold as the devil’s heart mixed with Eric Cartman
I’m the best in every department (yes)
I’m sorry, these niggas got me hype, man
And this really ain’t the type, man
I listen to what you write and everything just sound aiight, man
You better off a hype man
Who me? Music is my life, man


[Outro: Kxng Crooked]
We’re out here living, man
And we live
Roll up

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