| The ill diabolical fiend this mad scientist
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| Kill the cartel, rule the land with a iron fist
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| Ruste Juxx I be spitting that
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| Body new rappers, homie, watch who you getting at
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| Brrap, the bold cap snapback
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| I hit you with the brrat 'till your cap snap back
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| Further, knocking on them Pearly Gates
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| I’m organizing late funerals and early wakes
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| For any hot stepper trying to dance with the devil
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| Gravedigger, stand over your corpse with a shovel
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| Dropping dirt on it, fill it up then I’m out
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| They building something on the lands so now I gotta dig 'em out
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| Hoodfella, I rob for deniros
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| Too many lives lost for trying to be a hero
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| My patience is zero, I’m keeping it a hundred
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| Everytime I had a fight in my life I never fronted
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| I’m the realest
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| Illest man walking, night of the living dead
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| Tombstone hopper, got a price on my head
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| Graveyard shipping, gotta keep the monsters fed
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| Things that go bumping at night, fool, you scared
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| I’m the illest man walking, night of the living dead
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| Tombstone hopper, got a price on my head
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| Graveyard shipping, gotta keep the monsters fed
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| Things that go bumping at night, fool, you scared
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| I spit a murder verse scary as October 31st
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| House keeping, streets sweeping when doing my dirty work
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| Marijuana sparker, playing that drum like Travis Barker
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| Fam, I will valet park ya
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| Take your keys then get that cake before you leave
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| Gun talk, shooting the breeze
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| I put a popper to your chopper drop a hundred emcees
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| Hard ten below, but I spit the summer degrees
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| That mac wind made his hat spin
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| There’s a million mad men in my trash bin
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| So when I buck at you bastards
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| Calm your frontline, and call it a muscle relaxer
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| Results of my violence is silence, we all can sleep
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| Me home, you six feet deep
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| Well-known heavy hitter, whoever want it
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| Everytime I step to the plate, I never bund it
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| I’m the illest
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| I’m a product of the projects, a menace to society
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| My consciense thinks progress but my greed thinks violently
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| Give me that, run that, kill me or I come back
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| Taking what I wanna take, homie, I’m a scumbag
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| So disrespectful I know my parents taught me better than that
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| But couldn’t keep me away from felony rap
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| Not talking about music, this is felony robbery
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| Strong arm with the uzi, intercepting the economy
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| Touch down, get down clown, kiss the ground
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| And I’m too broke to own a silencer, homie, this is loud
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| Matter of fact, definetely, make your ears ring
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| Crazy you can get shot and not feel it at first, it’s a weird thing
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| Pass out, wake up in the emergency room
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| With people you never met before nursing your wounds
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| Your little sister crying, doctors are inserting a tube
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| Down your throat, oh well, nothing personal dude
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| Bill is the illest |
Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song The Walking Dead , by - Ill Bill. Song from the album Howie Made Me Do It 3, in the genre Рэп и хип-хоп