a b c d e f g h i j k l m n o p q r s t u v w x y z 0 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 #

letra de our life lyrics (feat. necro) - ill bill

yo…
don’t make me flip on you
actually you can’t make me do nothing
i might decide to

i used to mush thugs
and now i push drugs
i knew a kid that put slugs in his own mug
used to show me his guns
ain’t a cat that knows where ya son
remember violence at only one
i used to watch my pops untreat a girl
and beef with the world
he had a bone to pick
that’s why my dome was sick
it rubbed off on me
because the apple don’t fall far from the tree g
you cats keep your distance
cause your scared i might flip in an instant
when i was filled with innocence
i was still committing sins
half of you cats are sweet like cinnamon
i shove a knife in your grin
i run with convicts who stick up kids
that’ll rob you for six bucks b-tch
we flip right before you expect it
because we were neglected, as children now we’re hectic
we shot men and we rob gems
i seen cats that used to clock me, now i clock them
got easier, back since 2 o’clock 10
in case, one in ya face is the only option

necro with ill bill
walk around life – murder, murder, kill, kill
gun up in your grill
and you screaming chill, chill
didn’t have ?your steer? now you get your cap peeled
this is our life, our life

aiyyo, i grew up in the motherf-cking projects
my moms says if my pop left
we would have to get a sectionade apartment
the rest cheap, i see decepticons at least
ten deep, run up on me flipping, wanna set beef
that was some f-ggot sh-t, me and my borough
for rent for do-lo
the only 2 white kids up in my projects that wasn’t h-m-
i fought every day, beefed with a hundred cats
right before i started sold drugs and busting caps
right before i bust my first nut, i love to rap
at 10 years old is when i first started to f-ck with that
everyone else in my pj’s knew i was black
i kept it to myself, continued to defy my ?cl-ss?
i used to buy my mother a milk jug and spike that
you fight with me, i was the type of cat to fight back
i lace you with a broken nose, holding the ice pack
wife black, puerto rican’s, we was poor, it was wack
my mom’s tried her best
i never graduated high school i learned to pump drugs and pack 9’s instead
became one of those violent heads
have you on a respirator, even though the doctor know your mind is dead

- ill bill

letras aleatórias

MAIS ACESSADOS