Xbvddx - Silent Ill (feat. Lil Vito, Kaz B, Kenroc & Kp)

I rhyme harder than my dick at a strip club
Pimp stuff
Bitch I be livin' up in a vista
Pissed off
I became a lyric snob
My fault
Bein' to hard on myself
That was my downfall
Hated what I sounded like
Years tryin' to get it right
Second guessin' myself
Now I'm tryin' to make up time
I'm my hardest cynic critic admitted
But I'm a force to be reckoned with
And I'll put everything on the line
You don't like it motha' fucker
You can suck a dick
You can shove that motha' fucker
All up in your lips
You can wobble and gobble that some bitch
Til' I'm outta body
Havin' a seizure and throwin' fits
On the floor
Till' I'm sore
From the force
I endure
Metaphor
Dirty whore
It's not a porn
It's a war
But of course there'll be gore
I'm too poor to afford
Any sympathy
Empathy
Or pity galore
I've been scribin' lyrics ever since I was six
Ever since then I've been gettin' lyrically sick
Now I'm just sick of these shitty rappers
Makin' idiots out their self and the fuckin' public
I could care less about the fame
Or dealin' with any these evil deceit people but
I love fuckin' money
It's the root of evil
I don't know how to not think corrupt
Give it up
It's a bust
Ya lyrics suck
Silly us
For listenin'
Pretty much
I just flushed the toilet
While playin' ya boys tape thinkin' what's the difference
I don't know man
They both sound like shit to me
That's why I'll never let the pressure get to me
Cause' the worst I could do
Is sound like you
Gotta be kiddin' me
I got the remedy
Rap on amphetamines
Know he's gonna be upset when he hears the news
About his dues
Droppin' like Kennedy's
All of my weaponry
Put it to use
And I ain't callin' no truce
You got a problem then do somethin'
Cause' I'm in the mood for blood gushin' and cool stuff
Really I ain't too much into this new stuff
But who am I kiddin'
Really half of you dudes suckin'
It's like I'm on an elevator and it only moves up
Came along way from runnin' outta Buddha
But still struggle in' to pay my producer
Stay the fuck out my way like Luda
Y'all feather weight rappers gettin' bruised up
Crew's fucked quite simply
Lil' Vito bring the funk like chitterlings
I can kill a song without singing
Bitch
Hashtag Winning
I was sippin' on Coronas and eatin' paellas
I took a hiatus
I break for the haters
It's crazy to say it
But they wasn't bankin'
On me comin' back
So I made em' a statement
The balance was zero
You fell off your payments
And all of the respect the compliments
All is amazin' but y'all have been hatin'
Look I was asleep
Now I've awakened
Who's uncovered my sarcophagus
Watch as I regain consciousness
I can not explain all of this
But you about to witness what a monster is
Ugh
Preposterous
I've been hidin' in my shell like a lobster is
I new to this new shit
not new to this music
But new to these neighborhood foster kids
In a wife beater loadin' up cartridges
Every bullet got a piece of my heart in it
There pullin' on strings from every angle
Till' my heart starts to rip apart and split
You had a fling and a crush
Ya
Cute
But that's not ya bitch
Even if it got ya rich
Not to piss on ya wheat'es
But look at the consequence
They ain't even ready
I'm steady lettin' em' get it
Machete leave em' beheaded
For fetti Bet he regret it
Andretti pace and we set it
We lace em and then forget it
We don't chase em'
We just tastin' em'
Replacin' em' with credit
Lyrical twelve bang
Confetti is draw spaghetti to wall
Flame-throwing
Fire Breathing
Dragon for sure
I'm the same bro that claim to be nice with the paws
Ice with a cause
On the mic
Slice like a sword
Don't be splicin' a cord
Decide to fight above all
With the same satisfaction
like your slicin' a broad
My advice for the right price
Get right with the Lord
Take a trip with yourself
No devices at all
So put the chrome down
Put the phone down
Take a look
Hear ya own sound
Travel home bound
Read a book
Are you grown now
All alone now
Don't be shook
Find a spark
In the faith
In the ark
That the raiders took
Haters look
Don't be stupid
Got more arrows then Cupid
So cut the shit before I run up on you like I'm John Wick
Arm wits
Somethin' in my palm thick
Got sticks longer than your arms bitch
Ice pick to ya arm pits
Mean I'm goin' straight for your heart
It's
Just to prove a point
I'll appoint my joint
To appoint towards your face
That will point you to a way
To get anointed to Jesus
Christo no delay yo
I'm back for the title
I'm stabbin' psycho
You rattin' like Fievel
You dead on arrival
We laughin' at rivals
Get washed like a cycle
I'm packin' that pyro
I'm spinnin' like Michael
Jackson or Jordan
If rap was a sport
Then I'm back on the court
And I'm Shaq on the boards
And I'm crashin' ya course
And I'm fast as a Porsche
I'm shittin' again
Yeah I'm back in the stall
Don't wanna get torched
Stay your ass on the porch
Murdered a track
With a lack of remorse
Leave a rapper a corpse
Send em' back to the morgue
I'm from the A
We be actin' a fool
Nigga we got the drip like it's laps in a pool
And I'm floatin' in space
Headed back to the moon
You can smell us from here
To the back of the room
In a trap where they movin' them packages smooth
And they packin' them tools
Can't be lackin' with wolves
Out here flashin' them jewels
Then the next thing you know
Niggas kick in the door
And they crash in the room
But fuck if they hate
Makin' play after play
And we movin' in silence like back in the day
They can what they say
When we makin' em' pay
And we stay out the way
We got paper to make

Written by:
Brandon Blackmon, Norman Leiding

Publisher:
Lyrics © O/B/O DistroKid

Lyrics powered by Lyric Find