Twisted Insane, Rittz - ILL Smith lyrics

Born and raised in California the
City of the stoner
Pushin' a whip up on a bitch and when
I hop in I be on her
And they blow my phone up
Never really did when I was a bum
Now I become hot as Arizona
Post up in a bucket all night saying "Fuck
It!" 'cause I really got nowhere to go
And I was broke and homeless
That's way too many then, see
I was penny-pinching
I could not afford to pull up in
A Honda Accord with the chrome ones
Mixin' the women with the
Wicked and the alcohol
Fuck it, you could spend it homie
We about to ball
Sick of all these rappers that be
Actin' like they rapping tight
But really half them people wasn't
Saying shit at all
Go ahead mothafucka, talk about your ice
You in Lamborghinis, we don't even got a ride
Sick of the ones that always talk a
Lot about the shit they got
When other niggas come around they
Often run and hide
You can probably find me somewhere
In the alley gettin' high
Drinkin' all my life away as time passes by
I could've been in medicine
I could've been a president
I wanna ask the Lord but shit why, ask why?
Four racks in my pocket
From the Mayweather fight i made a grip
And finna bet nobody smacking a homie
Bought a Honda
Weed and gang of swisha sweets
Some new Chuck Tees, a couple T's
And a slice of Bologna
God Damn! Never really couldn't manage myself
They say I'm schizophrenic, man
I really need help
I told you it's the voices
That be talking to me, giving me subliminals
That's how you make your faces all melt
Little nigga wanna trip
I will unbuckle my belt
And get to whooping on 'im
In front of his girl, i'm a devil
Rippin' mothafuckers into pieces
Now the nigga pray to Jesus
Really ain't no other rapper on my level

ILL Smith, fuck a Fresh Prince
Murder every rapper in the
Game and left prints homie, let's dance
Being fresh put me on
I felt like it's my last chance of making a
Haters wanna hide the dues and be friends
Let's hide all my cynical
A product unidentical rappers talking a lot
They biting but they bite is just miniature
To me you don't resemble a G
But, you keep on talking lot
I'll stomp you out and put a
Nike emblem print on you
Anyone messing with my crew might
Get pushed to finish you and end your career
I've been loose but I'm winnin' this year
A lot of suckas' actin' like a
Bunch of women they scared
They swear they hard but start to
Tremble when the pistol appear
I'm I'm writing, eating Xanax, Atlantis
A lot of strippers
I bet you wish you was here
85 pound drunks out here pissing their pants
Turn on the radio and it's
This the right station, it’s weird
I hear rappers singing RnB
While I’m in my Cut Supreme with some green
Sucker free, on the weed
I got in anything you need
Give a scream down the street
Speakers beat like I put
You under meat mallet
While the beat riding I got the
Blow and got the bars
Close to overdose and I just
Hope I see tomorrow
Nobody really cared when I was
Broke and 'bout to starve
So why should I give a fuck
Whats up with Khloé and Lamar!?
'Cause they got a grand problem
Nerds on the internet be
Talking mad blogging, i'm bout to snap on em
I'm fixing to bust his head and
There'll be a black coffin
This rapping shit don't work
I'm in a black mask robbing
Mock it, think the spittin' shit's lame
Johny, stop! No crossing over
Can't get in this lane
Two of the best that ever did
It Rittz and Twisted Insane
Taking over this game
So remember his name: ILL Smith
Bitch, yuh uh yeah