Glenwood Projects

Ill Bill

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    Glenwood mother-fuckin' Projects, that was the fuckin' place man. Fuckin'
    crack smoking all night. Cookin' it up, sellin' C4, weapons, blowguns, every
    mother-fuckin' thing - what a fuckin' rush. We were cookin' the shit up, an'
    I smoked it up an' the Jamaicans man, they came back, fuckin' torched the
    place, with me mother-fuckin' in it! I couldn't get out the fuckin
    apartment, they locked me in, I had to go out the fuckin window, it was
    fuckin' dynamite!

    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-fuck you - Drop dead faggit 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 bitch - flashin the tits - While you crashing the whip
    Laughin at hoes, taking fakerss to amateur flicks
    While the Ill Bill albums kidnapping your kids

    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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    I get impatient like a long bid - get so vexed I hit the wrong kid
    Shit 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 pussy like a G-string or thong
    You think I'm sick? Fucked up? Oh am I?
    You think you can't die?
    Don't think your crazy cuz a years passed by
    Beat you down with my fuckin' hands tied
    Now change your attitude, before you get cracked from different latitudes
    By kids that are mad at you - they expect gratitude
    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…

    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

    I rock sickening raps like Woody Allen flares beach hats
    A John Hinckley - run up on politicians with ski caps
    Laser weapons - I bleed coke, 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 space suite, love rocking titties 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 coke on my cock
    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

    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

    Información de la canción

    Composición: M. Manzanilla

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