glenwood projects - ill bill lyrics
[uncle howie]
“glenwood mother-f-ckin’ projects, that was the f-ckin’ place man. f-ckin’
crack smoking all night. cookin’ it up, sellin’ c4, weapons, blowguns, every
mother-f-ckin’ thing – what a f-ckin’ rush. we were cookin’ the sh-t up, an’
i smoked it up an’ the jamaicans man, they came back, f-ckin’ torched the
place, with me mother-f-ckin’ in it! i couldn’t get out the f-ckin
apartment, they locked me in, i had to go out the f-ckin window, it was
f-ckin’ dynamite!”
[ill bill]
ill bill lost sanity – lost humanity
lost in a maze of purple haze, cannabis sativa – spit ether – violently
very vociferous – victorious – hotter than a crematorium – i’ll kill all of you
kill you – mother-f-ck you – drop dead f-ggit it’s the dragon
.44 magnum – splatter you in front of your family
my fire arms, never be tired – up in the air
throw a bullet up in each eye – an’ one in ya ear
i speak heroin, breathe weed, sniff cocaine
tweaked levels when i peeped courtney kill cobain
we got the whole world scratching they heads
life is like a high-jacked airliner, but we managed to win
back to the crib, breakin up the cats in the brig
havin a b-tch – flashin the t-ts – while you crashing the whip
laughin at hoes, taking fakerss to amateur flicks
while the ill bill alb-ms kidnapping your kids
[chorus x2: ill bill]
i put the d into drugs an’ the g into guns
i put the d into dubs an’ the t into thugs
i put the c into ‘caine an’ the p into pain
the g into game, pop-pop – three in ya brain
[necro]
i get impatient like a long bid – get so vexed i hit the wrong kid
sh-t gets awkward, like i’m on a drug an’ i can’t get off it
blank out – rip a shank out
treat you like vietcong – hit you like the weed in a bong
your p-ssy like a g-string or thong
you think i’m sick? f-cked up? oh am i?
you think you can’t die?
don’t think your crazy cuz a years p-ssed by
beat you down with my f-ckin’ hands tied
now change your att-tude, before you get cracked from different lat-tudes
by kids that are mad at you – they expect grat-tude
i’ll strike a foe – even if you don’t know me you better act like you know
especially if you’re soft – i’ve earned my stripes like schwarzkopf
the gun i bust off will tear through your clothes like a moth
your sloppy, cuz you start beef, and cop please, but not me…
[chorus x2: ill bill]
i put the d into drugs an’ the g into guns
i put the d into dubs an’ the t into thugs
i put the c into ‘caine an’ the p into pain
the g into game, pop-pop – three in ya brain
[goretex]
i rock sickening raps like woody allen flares beach hats
a john hinckley – run up on politicians with ski caps
laser weapons – i bleed c-ke, happiness is like a warm gun
run in ya crib slitting ya g’s throat
cruise the block, whippin’ uzi’s an’ pop
loosin the cops, whether new lots or zooming through watts
the newest sp-ce suite, love rocking t-tties like grapefruits
phase two – rasta-ice inverted “hey-zeus” (jesus)
i’m up in fat burger – bag some codeine
so clean, pinstripe gat runners are old g’s
serving the fiends crack, dope and weed
glenwood projects – we living the american dream
screaming “hey pelican” – trains of c-ke on my c-ck
handle bars like “vivica” – with nipples and crotch
we toured – drive-bys on the mongoose with glocks
this ain’t rhetorical, the story gets worse – you get shot
[chorus x2: ill bill]
i put the d into drugs an’ the g into guns
i put the d into dubs an’ the t into thugs
i put the c into ‘caine an’ the p into pain
the g into game, pop-pop – three in ya brain
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