|
Ill Bill - Glenwood Projects lyrics
[Uncle Howie] "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] 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 [Chorus Ill Bill x2] 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 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 [Chorus Ill Bill x2] 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 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 [Chorus Ill Bill x2] 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 |
|
Last added lyrics |
---|
Time on Earth by Crowded House |
Lost and Found by Will Smith |
Insomniac by Enrique Iglesias |
Afrodisiac by Brandy |
Good Girl Gone Bad by Rihanna |