Murda Boyz - Illa Ghee

The Illa Ghee

I’m gunning

Let’s go

Uh huh

This is how it goes down

It’s about to go down

Illa

Hey yo I slip through the cracks

My rap flows crack

My gun create hands when the razors go clap

I spit so hard make the beat catch flack

I never had a deal but yet I got a gold plaque

True dog got to make you fake niggas lay flat

You appetizer cats are not food you’re just snacks

I’m not a lead song but I can take it to the max

I spit black milk and I swing the (?) ax

I ran them

Come through your hood with wild handguns

Handsome

Rap so foul I need a (?)

Illa Ghee fam this is me (?)

Go ham

My gun jelly 'cause haters never want jam

You god-damn right I fuck fans

In hotels, cars, the roof, and broke vans

My rap flow scars and bars are like brands

Fuck a tight jean nigga, the Illa’s a grown man

Now let the murda boyz play kid

My whole flow murder I live it the same way

And if you don’t give I take

Homie I spit in your face, make you open the safe

Loud nigga got the nine pointed at your liver

Sip a little liqour, the ice is in the ticker

My chain ice glacier, lyrics beyond nature

Ball like a Laker, enemies better pray for

Taste it

Public enemy with no flavor

It’s sad

Like the Ray J fight with (?)

I’m mad, I’m fronting with a forty-four mag

I’m mad, my flow like a Louis V Jag

Models

I do them how they do them in Chicago

Bravo

The Illa Ghee app is for (?)

And I knows

I’ll go against all mono-e-mono

Its time yo, running through the jungle like a rhino

You’re blind if you don’t see the rap games mine

I went to jail

'Cause its a crime I’m not signed

Like the sun I will shine

Like coffee beans in the blender I’m on grind

You can find me in the gun range

Hitting the target with sharp aim

Or sitting in the range and I’m floating in all lanes

A lot of niggas talking but never do what they claim

I’m not the smartest dude but still be getting some brain

My lyrics are rugers (?)

You’re loving what you’re hearing but lyrics mimic and pain

The street (?) but still be looking the same

I’m the president to Bill (?) babies like Lil' Wayne

My attitude is real fucked up, and real shitty

Sometimes I feel like the bullet that killed Biggie

Life stands ugly but betchu I’ll be sitting pretty

With something pretty, hand on the blouse or in the kitty

I know too many killers (?) murder comitting

My lyrics is the day the terrorists hit the city

Enemies got smacked silly

I’m from Bed Stuy but my aura is Guy Richie