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letra de our life - ill bill

[intro: necro]
yo…
don’t make me flip on you
actually you can’t make me do nothing
i might decide to

[verse 1: necro]
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 me as son
remember violence at only one
i used to watch how my pops would treat 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 access to a glock-10
in case, one in ya face is the only option

[hook x2]
necro with ill bill
walk around like – murder, murder, k!ll, k!ll
gun up in your grill
and you screaming ‘chill! chill!’
didn’t have your steel, now you get your cap peeled
this is our life, our life

[verse 2: ill bill]
ayo, i grew up in the motherf-cking projects
my moms says if my pop left
we would have to get a section-8 apartment
the rent’s 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 brother
went for do-lo
the only 2 white kids up in my projects that wasn’t h0m-
i fought every day, beefed with a hundred cats
way before i started sold drugs and busting caps
way 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 who’d rhyme was black
i kept it to myself, continued to define my craft
i used to buy my mother milk dragging a spike bat
you fought with me, i was the type of cat to fight back
i lace you with a broken nose, holding the ice pack
whites, blacks, 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

[hook x2]

- ill bill

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