The Ill Spoken - Whatup Dilla lyrics

Ya heard? Yo, uh, yo, yo
Rest in peace, J Dilla (Yo)
Rest in peace, J Dilla
Yeah, rest in peace, J Dilla (Uh, huh)
Yeah, rest in peace, J Dilla (RIP)
How High: The Mixtape, Rated R, Diggz
Ill Spoken

What up, Dilla? Hope you rest in peace
You still speakin' for ya beats
When you bless the streets (Uh)
Real talk, put your tape on and press repeat
So let me kick back, relax and rest my feet
Yeah, we can chill, true MC's
They speak it real a lot of fake cats make
Tracks and break a deal (Pssh)
We ain't on no fakin'-ass bullshit
Fools gettin' so what the deal? Who
This kid that's bussin'? My name is Beedie
Let me give you all the introduction
The Ill Spoken comin' through
For the ill discussion
It's somethin' runnin' through the veins
I can feel it rushin' (Uh, huh)
Thought it was over but it really wasn't
Because we comin'
Ain't no one try to ruin our
Moves until we done it
You act bogus, I focus on gettin' cream
Grind harder than ya
Teeth on methamphetamines, what I mean?
You cats couldn't rumble with the team
'Cause you couldn't count your numbers
Pull you under when you scream
Real things: you fiends that gon' touch
My cash or puff my grass
Blunts mixed with butts and hash
Never did well in school, but I love my math
Count my stacks every night before
I hit the mattress (yeah)
Gettin' cash, shit is systematic
But don't get mad if ya shit get splatted
Believe me

What's good, y'all? (Yo) My name is Mac
You can hear me 'cross the
Hall while I'm bangin' rap
And now ya face is slapped
With a dedication track
Oh shit, that's kinda hard
I ain't erasin' that
So rest in peace to the beast
On the beat: J Dilla
For you, we raise a Miller
Hip-Hop still feel ya
I bust rhymes over melodies that touch minds
And bust spines with each and every punchline
(Pow) so how you like me now?
This Ill Spoken ground's be
Around for a while
Juggle verses like a circus
Turnin' frowns into smiles
You see us 'round town
Underground with some styles
Stop talkin' 'bout this and that
See me as I kick it back
Spittin' rap and fitted caps
Smoke an L and hit the sack, askin'
"Can you picture that?"
Picture-perfect verses
'Cause me and Beedie here
Ill Spoken at your service
Smack you side the head
Alert the doctors and the nurses
A wallet in your pocket
Bitches better hide they purses
'Cause once you ain't watchin'
I'ma come and grab it
Grab the cash, coppin' grass
Gettin' massive chronic

Recordings
This that real Hip-Hop shit right here