Conway The Machine, Royce da 5'9", DJ Green Lantern - ​iLL lyrics

" I'm so ill"
("Welcome to Hell where you
Are welcome to sell") " i " " ill"
("All scars, we earn 'em, all cars
We learn 'em") " I'm so ill"
("When them shells come
You better return 'em")
" i " " i " " ill"

Uh, I came in here with
Enforcers and with the goons
I never fail, I aim for
The stars, came up short
Then I hit the moon
I'm more G than if Voorhees
Had the pumpkin face mAC-11 thumpin'
Chase bitches never dump them
Make 'em get out control they minds
Keep them down on that sunken place
Which is why your boy remains on top
I tell the baddest bitch around
"Hoe, you look like Tory Lanez jump shot"
I use to think raw sex was the sacred shit
'Til I switch to faithful
Ate some sushi from off the chest
Of a naked chick, now I just be dissing hoes
Yeah momma, your son's grown
I literally turned down your
Wife so many times
Her pussy lips ice-grilling you while you
Licking it with your fronts on
Either get out my face or I'm
Defacin' you with a comment
Rappers like a bunch of baby birds
Waitin' for me to vomit
Nigga say that they the illest rhyming
Now they got to see me
I'm what'chu call them Detroit Problems
Now they got DP
Now I got the AR, so now they gotta back up
Lying 'til they got a twelve inch nose
Now they got three feet
I'm who your hoes thirst for
You're the worst flow-er
To the Book of Ryan, I keep my story low
I'm the first floor

" i " " i " " ill"
("When them shells come
You better return 'em")
" i " " i " " ill"

Word on the streets is niggas mad
I'm rufflin' niggas feathers
Tell them sucka niggas I said
"Fuck them niggas" whatever
You niggas know y'all can't
Fuck with me nigga, never
You can line them niggas up
Put a bunch of niggas together
Yeah, I stick the clip in and pop
The kinda shit that I'm on
Is reminiscent of Pac
Grippin' the Glock, bandana on
Blick at the cops
Pickin' your spot, got the hammer drawn
Lift up ya top
Nigga you not no gangsta, you just a rapper
I can tell
I can tell it's fishscale, bust the plastic
I can smell
This for niggas behind the wall that
Keep the ratchet in they cell
That'll stab you 'til you yell, while
They passin' out the mail, yeah
My automatic full of shells
They try to take me out before
But I had to just prevail
I know the goons, the little savages as well
I know the plug
Make a call and get a package in the mail
It's passion that I'm rapping with
These rap niggas is real street nigga
But I'm rappin' like I graduated Yale
I ain't attracted to the plaques
And all the sales
'Cause if I ain't the illest rapper
Then actually I failed
Look, you must got it confused
Come at me sideways
And get you yo' spot on the news
You gotta be fools, shawty get used
Goons body you smooth
Put you in a funeral home, body get viewed

" I'm so ill"
("Welcome to Hell where you
Are welcome to sell") " i " " ill"
("All scars, we earn 'em, all cars
We learn 'em") " I'm so ill"
("When them shells come
You better return 'em")
" i " " i " " ill"