the illest - jehst lyrics
[undaunted, i knew the game was mine to win. just like in life, all of my successes depend on me. i’m the man who has the ball, i’m the man who can throw it faster than f-ck. so that is why i am better than everyone in the world. kiss my -ss and suck my d-ck. everyone.]
can they kick it?
hear the drummer get wicked
can the mans really spit it?
you ain’t really listening, b
sunshine, everything i spit is vitamin d
eyes bloodshot red with a vision of green
bruck-pocket, but f-ck it
i’m living the dream
looking goofy like steve buscemi
with a shorty like shilpa shetty
silver tongue like a steel machete
guts hanging out your belly like spilt spaghetti
money flying like hundred dollar bill confetti
get me?
i’ve got the militant cartel
who’ll empty your wallet like a phillie cigar sh-ll
my name ringing an alarm bell
the stake through a vampire’s chest
every lyric is heartfelt
i give ’em the hard sale
the [?] c0ke in the cooler
bring me the martell
you’re all toys like mattel
give me two sheets
i roll a joint like an l
f-ck it
i roll an l-m-n-o-p
whenever i please
whether lemon cheese
or the peng is lebanese
trees from across the seven seas
the illest sh-t the world has ever seen
can they kick it?
hear the drummer get wicked
can the mans really spit it?
they ain’t f-ckin with me!
can they kick it?
hear the drummer get wicked
can the mans really spit it?
they ain’t f-ckin with me!
the war chief with a million militias
billy is malicious
i’ll be doing this
’til i’m living in a million dollar villa in mauritius
k!ll a lyricist, and leave him swimming with the fishes
doesn’t victory taste delicious?
he died of circ-mstances suspicious
but insignificant evidence to prosecute
i make the impossible possible
billy leap-frogging every obstacle
what do i got to do to get a beer around here?
boy up the promoter
clip him around the ear on some mum sh-t
you’re on some dumb sh-t
you’ll get confronted
are you really feeling the beats?
i’ll hit you with a drum stick!
one sick son of a –
a h-ll of a hullabaloo
my head like a helium balloon
my ego is out of control
off the leash, capiche?
blood, sweat, and elbow grease
can they kick it?
hear the drummer get wicked
can the mans really spit it?
they ain’t f-ckin with me!
can they kick it?
hear the drummer get wicked
can the mans really spit it?
they ain’t f-ckin with me!
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