Gangsta Rap - Ill Bill

Ayo, I smoke dust and shoot cops, sold guns to 2Pac

Smoked blunts with Biggie Smalls and sold drugs on New Lots

I was too young, couldn’t get up in clubs back in the old days

We used rob and terrorize kids in front of homebase

When Funkmaster Flex was inside rocking the whole place

We was outside, smacking kids and snatching gold chains

Bagging mad pigeons, catching mad digits, bad bitches

And when they husbands came around we had to blast biscuits

A bunch of bad Brooklyn kids that always had pistols

Broken dreams and broken homes, we always had issues

And mad problems, worshipping gangsters and bank robbers

Watching Scarface, starting fights at rap concerts

Until we realized how to get the real money

Steal money, kidnap money, kill money

It’s funny how the money make the whole world love you

Jealous cats hate you, dime bitches want you

Little ghetto children run up on you, wanna touch you

Got the IRS looking at you, wanna fuck you

Sniffing so much blow, you don’t know if you can trust you

Ecstasy react to what the cocaine and the dust do

Go against the ILL Bill and Non Phixion will crush you

Bust you, leave you with a tube in your throat to suck through

We truck jewels, these dust brothers fuck mothers

The thugs love us, rap for the gunslingers and drug hustlers

Where my gangstas at?

Cuts:

«Is you a gangsta?»

«With gangsta rap»