Stronger Freestyle Crooked I

[Crooked I]
Three in the morning when I come for ya
Tell your baby mother to take cover under the comforter
Leave her a widow, your mother have to comfort her
When them big uncomfortable guns are dumping, sir
Blood on my sleeve - my first line, "Time to leave"
Blood on my watch cause it was your time to bleed
When the beef's right, pick a fresh nine to squeeze
Raise the heat to a hundred and ninety nine degrees
You dudes too minor league
Me, I'm behind the trees
Blending in, something like fatigues
Jump out like John Rambo, armed with ammo
I'm a commando, stay in [Com's mandos?]
Squat low when them blammers spit
In the craziness, I might blast a bitch
I'm no atheist, I'm not blasphemous
Pray to God forgive me, they try to blast and miss
I know God was with me, but am I hustling backwards
Or is it drama is just in love with us rappers?
I want a better role like struggling actors
I'd rather chill like I'm on muscle relaxers
With a couple of masterpiece chicks to guzzle my bastard seeds quick
That would be sick
Instead, I'm a warrior at war
Saying an American prayer like I'm Jim Morrison in the Doors
Praying I survive, paranoid as I'm looking out the window
Nigga, I shoot before the wind blow
Kinfolk, please don't ignore this info:
Niggas get bagged and smoked more than indo