| I’ma G like the 7th letter in the alphabet
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| My shirt’s wet all over a new connect
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| Caught a bullet in my neck and it’s spillin' just like a sive
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| Clentch the Glock wonderin' how long I’m gonna live
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| But before I get ahead the story let’s start with,
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| The kid we was introduced through a kinda friend
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| My man Ill Money would never lead me astray
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| Real playa he don’t fuck with nothing but big weight
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| Put me up on game said the players in town
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| Hold nothing but Afghan twelve hundred a pound
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| At that price I could flip three or maybe four
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| In less than a week through the front and out the back door
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| He says here the numbers and I called the new cat
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| Told 'im Money said them L-B-S's lookin' fat
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| I’m lookin' to cop two or thirdies on front
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| Had intents on flippin' two and baggin' the third up
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| And layin' the dude down, and skirtin' with all them pounds
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| And dumpin' a couple rounds, and skippin' a couple towns over
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| When my boy Loc celled to the smoked out
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| Over an inner sight front of the crack house
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| I said I was plannin' the attack,
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| I need a gun man and a Ryda watch my muthafuckin' back
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| Cause if shit went wack niggas smoke up on me
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| What’s up R.O.C. |
| it’s ya muthafuckin' homie
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| Seen the thing was I had to roll dude
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| Grab the first burner I’m bout to fall through
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| And bodies gon' go I swear right with me
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| Blaze and R.O.C. |
| make situations sticky
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| Let out whoever’s there babies are included
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| We leavin' nothin' breathin' no discussions movin'
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| I won’t be seen, cause all they see is the flash from my barrel
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| Fuck a penitentary, hand steady 160 cock me
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| Cops can’t stop me, fuck I’m gettin' sloppy
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| Break a lil' bit cross the front of the bitch
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| Start gunnin' when I pass 'em no aces ditched
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| While the silencer’s silencin' all that’s involved
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| We about to get paid ain’t no time to stall
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| Attempts to catch the bead of sweat drippin' down my face
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| Burns my eye a lil' bit but my aim is straight
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| I can see it goin' down
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| ILL CONNECT
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| It’s bout to happen right now
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| ILL CONNECT
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| Rob that boy for them pounds
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| ILL CONNECT
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| I like the way that sounds
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| ILL CONNECT
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| It might come back around
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| ILL CONNECT
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| I want the muthafuckin' crown
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| ILL CONNECT
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| Them bodies bound to be found
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| ILL CONNECT
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| I put 'em deep in the ground
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| ILL CONNECT
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| Shit went bad, there was undercover cops
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| I shot, he shot, and R.O.C. |
| popped
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| One of his boys in the neck and it got worse
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| Overhead was the sirens and the sounds of the ghetto bird
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| I had a coupla holes in my chest like a golf course
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| And I’m reloadin' the rounds for the I-4 task force
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| And canine units that tried to subdue us
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| Plenty of ammunition I’m lookin' to get ruthless
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| Takin' shelter behind the side door
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| Amidst the gun battle I drop a few more
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| So many shells hit the ground and mixed with my blood
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| It’s dust clouds and gun powder and heat above
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| Time ticks and the second hand fly pass
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| The streets is riddled with blood and gun blasts
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| And the final shot that fatally struck me
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| An who the fuck are they kidding ain’t no killin' Ya Dead Homie |
Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Ill Connect , by - Blaze Ya Dead Homie. Song from the album Clockwork Gray, in the genre Рэп и хип-хоп