| They say this story is a myth and they bore my with they if’s
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| They can never understand me, notorious is is
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| A fighter fallen deep into the warriors abyss
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| I got a mixed up past, it warrants me to flip
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| I got my dick sucked fast, in the sixth grade from a bitch
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| With a switchblade who used to twist up grass
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| She never learned nothing cuz' the bitch cut class
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| I never learned nothing either, but puffin reefer and stuffing beaver
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| I grew into a sick fuck fast
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| An unstable addle
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| My dumb neighbors taddle
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| Cops knocking on the door, I do my thing no hassle
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| I’m saying I ain’t playing
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| I am the king of this castle
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| The casa of the asshole
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| The cash when you passcode
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| You little local rappers back off, I’m international
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| Stamps in my passport
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| Billboards in Moscow
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| Phone ringing off the hook
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| I can’t answer it, not now
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| Come on, with me
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| So they told me, they never disown me and I believed it
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| The gold oakley lenses reflecin' and deceivin'
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| Chicken shit, fucking pussy, asshole
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| If not for me, you wouldn’t even have a cash flow
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| Never held a gun but you blast though
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| Haha stupid
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| I’m in there getting money
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| You in there playing cupid
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| I’m coming through in a coupe without the roof in
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| Bitch by my side with the ass strictly for boofing
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| Enough of that though, never judge a book off a first look
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| Just a cook off the first tote
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| If its right then you sell it, get a good boat
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| And if ya lucky, get a shorty with a wood throat
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| No yeast, you fucking with the three beasts
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| Deca Durabolin shooting three CC’s
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| Get off the wenis, make her kiss the rim
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| Sour intravenous, piss away the sin
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| Come on, with me
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| Yo, they say this story is a myth
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| But I’m gloriously sick, Ill Bill, I’m like a walking emporium of piff
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| I abacinate, poke you in the cornea with spliffs
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| I assassinate, smoke you and your shorty with the fifth
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| I will lacerate, cut you up and throw you in the car trunk
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| Ask who’s great, you could be the last thing these maggots taste
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| Tie your feet and hands with tape, dead rats stuffed up in ya' mouth
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| Lock you in the casket, now you can’t escape
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| Homie you a bitch, throw you in the ditch
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| Smother you in dirt, with the worms, now you don’t exist
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| Murder is my favorite thing, body everything
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| Pull out the chopper like Harley Davidson and start spraying things
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| We La Coka Nostra, gun jam, beat you with the broken toaster
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| Leave you in the dumpster in the back of Roll-N-Roaster
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| On Emmons Avenue, splatter you, having you crying to Zeus like Olivia New,
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| Xanadu
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| Come on, with me, set your self free
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| Let the music take you away |
Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Offensive Lines , by - Ill Bill. Song from the album Howie Made Me Do It 2, in the genre Иностранный рэп и хип-хоп