Zachary Hill - Ill On The Mic lyrics

Yeah, it’s Zachary Ryan
To spit on the beat to make
All of y’all cry and "He doesn’t lie and
He is just lyin' on the floor
'Cause he’s sleepin', maybe he’s dyin'"
I spit it sick and wicked, it’s ridiculous
I kill it when I get up
On the track and spill this
Rapping: I won’t quit it i predict it
I’ma rap until I’m 86 then I’m finna dip it
Ya fuckin' hypocrite, zip ya lip
Or I’ll have my fruity homie come
Over and lick ya dick
Nobody listens to your music
On this beat, I’m finna spaz it
Kinda like Taz in a tornado
These bitches playin' with my
Dick like Play-Doh (Fuck)
You sold the bag
I be runnin' harder than a NordicTrack
Don’t fuck with me or I’ll
Send a warnin' track
Better watch how you act or you’ll
Get sacked in the sack you bettеr stop it
Before I pull up and end your lifе
I’ma shoot on sight when I see you tonight
If you even think about leavin' the house
I’ll have my homies shoot
Your fuckin' brain out
When I’m on the mic, bars drop
You need to stop, or I’ll call the cops
Your rhymes are so bad, it should be a crime
For you to rap, now go do your time
I’m ill on the mic no, psych!
Every time I write a lyric
It’s like jabbin' a knife into my torso
I’m makin' art like my name is Van Gogh
Stop throwin' a fit
(Fett) like your name is Jango
How far I can go? 'Bout as far as Rambo
I’m wearin' a hat and the brand is Kangol
Doin' a show in Orlando
I am playin' the piano so how far can I go?
About until the sequel of Lando Commando