This is a song about "Crooks"

And i don't cook much but i'm tough with that phone book

Warriors, crooks, spartan army's and foot

Semis rip bodies to shreds as crooks die behind rusty locks

Got police chasen meto my niggas from old blocks

I want to fight the music on this one

Apprehending all the crooks was my intention,

Goin’ for the grips every day ’til the grave

These lame crooks just tryna make a quick buck off of faith,

And then along came the wrong man for her

Crooks with coolers filled with brews are colder

Check me i be jumping out the coupe, swagger through the roof

The most of insane of the crooks, got my fame in the books,