| I be too ill nigga
|
| In the field give a fuck how you feel nigga
|
| Young honey that’s a real spitter
|
| Bitch run know she done when the wheels get her, uh
|
| Steel triggers, my bill’s bigger
|
| If you see me with a bitch then I kill with her
|
| And I cut off all them fake hoes they still bitter
|
| So I’m takin' all their money? |
| I'm a bill quitter?
|
| Hell, speed up
|
| Nigga re-up then we reload
|
| You wouldn’t understand cause you ain’t grow up on the east coast
|
| Can’t shake no hand I’m tryna keep close, I keep close
|
| You with the little banked broke hoes on sleep mode
|
| I ain’t waitin' on the sun to get up
|
| I ain’t watin' like a fool for the sun to get up
|
| With some bitches who won’t hesitate to gun up the truck
|
| And get to bangin' on the necks then put one in the gut
|
| Now throw it up
|
| Gon' give it to the sky tuck ya hella millis
|
| Neck froze wrist rose nigga hella chilly
|
| I can tell that you fake cause I’m hella really
|
| If I’m ridin' with a bitch know she hella illy (x5)
|
| Hella illy, Hella hella illy uh
|
| Hella illy, Hella hella illy uh
|
| If I’m ridin' with a bitch know she hella illy
|
| If I’m ridin' with a bitch then she hella illy
|
| I drank all night and I’m still buzzin'
|
| Now my ex tryna call me like we still fuckin'
|
| People tellin' me my old shit’s still bumpin'
|
| So at a show what he done and he still jumpin'
|
| Illy, I’m really ill
|
| If I say a bitch realy, I really will
|
| I ain’t never murdered no one but I really kill
|
| Test me and Imma show I’m made of really steel
|
| Don’t get too smart
|
| Rich bitch I was raised with a true heart
|
| Bitches talkin' but the story always two parts
|
| They can’t tell whats on my mind cause it’s too dark
|
| You ain’t even got time my shooters too sharp
|
| You ain’t ballin' you a club in the cubicle
|
| I’m 'bout money I ain’t tryna be beautiful
|
| I fuckin' smell like money on my cuticles
|
| I told my bitches play this shit at my funeral, ho |