The Ill Spoken, Big Will - Ain't I Freestyle lyrics

It's that funky shit right here
(East End Empire, baby)
Can we get? (East End Empire)

How High: The Mixtape
Ill Spoken, Easy Mac, Beedie, Rated R, Diggz
(East End Empire, baby) Yo
It feel like it's an
Awards show in this bitch, man (Uh, yo, yo)
Ayo, step back, I'ma have right in this
(Motherfuckers)

It's an assortment of Pittsburgh's hardest
Hardest you brew like a harvest
So they sought us out to pick out
Which of us come the farthest (Haha)
Fuck you (Fuck you) to them haters down in
Hardest, I'm breakin' out of the harness
And takin' whoever bothers me
My lil' crew of peoples (Uh, huh)
This the East End Empire


Hell-fire's my equal
The heat'll have you arguin' (What?)
I'm the arsonist, leave you wonderin'
"What was the cause of this?" (Haha)
Flow, was it liquid or solid? (Um)
Well, I'm lettin' you know
I'm ready to blow and
That's the goddamn target
I work the game with perfect aim
It's in my pencil (Uh, huh)
And I won't ever fake a trace
Around the frame of a stencil
And I'm sorry to offend you
I have your dumb dame runnin' the train
Givin' me brains up in every venue (Biotch)
Those wimpy legs
Bitch lookin' chicken like a breast
Been tryna take you to the crib so
I can stick in the flesh
Only pick the best, but you get a test
Gotta see if she can suck it
'cause I'm sicker with the sex
Girl, slip out of your
Dress and get comfortable (What?)
This is somethin' for the money makers out
There tryna live they lifes wonderful
(Where they at?) me and my team will strike
The game like a thunderbolt
And leave you wonderin' whether we will never
Pull the rug from under you (Woo)
Me and my mans tryna set it in motion
We on scam, tryna get it like ocean
Oh shit, this the jam and I'm coastin'
And you know we got a plan to get
That big money up in our hands no bullshit

East End, yeah
We know there's young vets in the game
(Uh, huh) makin' our paper longer 'cause
We gettin' this change (This money)
You can't just smoke a piff in
The back of the range or up in your crib
Stickin' long pipes in your dame (Ayo, girl)
Ill Spoken crew, we are fuckin' insane
(Fucking insane)
Tracks up, spittin' lyrics aflame (What?)
Your crew is wack 'cause you
All sound the same you need to stop rappin'
And chasin' our thing
'Cause this is Hip-Hop, fuckin' with me
I'll make your wig pop
Sippin' forty ounces down to
The last drip-drop
Beedie and Mac climbin' up to the tip-top
We stand up strong, and no
We don't flip-flop
Spittin' wack shit, the crowd be like, "Kid
Stop" come down to Pittsburgh and get
Your whole shit knocked
(Ill Spoken, Big Will)

Smokin' extra fire
So we need that gasoline-a
Atom bomb all day, call it Hiroshima
Fresh bag of haze
I ain't fuckin' with the Tina
Turner, burn the weed faster than a cheetah
Reefer smellin' like a bowl of fresh (Ah)
We chemists
Cookin' bomb trees in a test tube
I ain't mad sellin' weed to a
Dude in the eighth grade (Nope, nope)
I sold weed to his dad on the same day (Ha)
It's the mark of the beast
The stroke of a genius
Tryna find a music bitch to play
Some notes on my penis
Jesus, I think this boy's gone crazy
All day we blaze tree, this bomb hazy (True)
You want some rules? Join the
Army or the Navy
Ain't my beat, "Ain't I, " JAY-Z (Chyeah)
Thank you, thank you
Thank you all for comin' out
East End Empire, baby, The Ill Spoken
(That's how it is) the Ill Spoken
You know we ain't playin' no games