L’Amour East [7 minutes of Ecstacy]

I'm not worried about it myself, you know
Cause if they come to me, talking, i think
I'm a talk back, you know i'm not
Gonna shut up for nobody, you know, nobody

I'm addicted to love, lust, knowledge
And euphoria
Drugs, C and D cups, ganja and the gorier
Blood, guts, and deep cuts, Everlands
And black Timbs
Gold mouth, leopard flag, click-clack
We strapped in i roll up, talk shit, niggas
Know I'm really real, big blunt of that sour
Smoke it till I catch a chill
Niggas get slain over basketball game
Man, the hood may never change
All these niggas do is bang
Cops want us all in chains
Chase us down the one-way
I'm too smooth in my ways
Threw the stash in the drain
This twelve gauge, split a
Nigga, tsunami waves, bitch
I beat you ass for some shadеs
And some Johnny Cage shit (coo-coo)
Rip your face off your scalp
Now you got a facеlift
Beef, what's beef, that's a great dick shit
Feet? That's a great ditch
Zombie Gang, NYC, we amazing, fuck NYPD
Man I hate them

I, I, I, I, I, I met the reaper once
He told me that I should keep it up
And if ever my gun I clutch
Then he would help me sweep it up
I got Jesus on the payroll
And if he move left, then perfect
I'm smashing and fucking high
Low, that's the truth, non Phixion
150 proof, my liquor, Zombie Gang, ILL Bill
My nigga

Latin quarter to L'Amour east, we all beast
From across seas to cross queens
We all creeps
We, we, we all, we, we, we all, we, we, we
We all creeps
CBGB's to L'Amour east, we all beasts
Smoke PCP
Kids got stabbed over graffiti beef
Gra-gra-gra-gra-gra-graffiti beef
(look at me motherfucker when I'm talking)

Flatbush Sweater, Queens get the money
Sticking to the strip, ain't
A damn thing funny, hoe
Stick to the strip
If you ain't getting money
From the land of the hoe, baking sodas
And the honeys
Stick-up kids, sparing nothing but the ribs
Hop in the bang, bang, bang, bang bang bang
Peel off quick, bumping track number
6, ready to die, i'm that Big
Can't teach a old dog new tricks
My old dog got the four-fifth
And his fingers, they itch
Finna smack a bitch, where's my lighter?
Roll the weed, ignite your lifer
Many individuals try to play the game
Head first off your frame
Flawless victory, decapitate, and
Michael Jordan, he from Brooklyn too
Where niggas get killed for
They Air Jordan shoes
I don't really ball, but I'm higher than you
Smoking fire with some dreads
Calculating ways to clean the spread
Cop a paddy, then I head to the liquor store
Bomb, where's the hoes that be
Watching all my videos?
We gon' need a few of those
Zombie maneuver those when I was young
I used to bump that mace shit
One gold tooth, brown Timbs and a razor
Now I'm fiction, beat a nigga pulp
No kidding

E Train, last car, ten deep, left em dripping
Blacking out, catching wreck, fly tags
Peace to Griffen
Sneakers was Scottie Pippen
Denim was probably Guess
I’ve been Laurenovich since then
Rocking my Snow Beach vest
Dolo fresh ox on, Polo Bear socks on
Freak dancing in the backstreet
With our Glocks on
Hard rocks, hammers and heaters
They kept the blocks warm
Daily objective being gone before
The cops swarm
Holding TECs, never sex, we was not porn
Streets made us then they raised us
We are not born gang shit was on the rise
But most my clique was neutral
Don't get it fucked up nigga
Why? Most my clique will shoot you
Without beads or a bandana
Bullets will make your face blurry
Like a bad camera
Peace to Queens nigga, home of that fly shit
Cop killer central, you die quick
What up though?

I took the 6 train to
The Bronx for infinity lessons
With the rise of the crack
Rock had the vicinity stressing
My Zulu medallion over whatever
We was wearing
In the late '80s, we wasn’t born wild
We was made crazy
That movie 'Beat Street' was so misleading
‘Cause some of the breakers I
Knew were stick-up kids
That leave you cold and bleeding
It wasn’t a happier time
New York was a fucking mess
Little yellow envelope stuffed with
Skunk and cess then I’m in the back of the B
Train with a four finger ring
And a gold rope, didn’t look like a rapper
I looked like somebody that sold dope
And maybe I did, cause back home was no hope
But maybe because Rakim said he was no joke
And I wanted to be just like the God
Excelling my skill level, plus life was hard
Dog, it was more realer back then
You would either deal or rap
The industry snatched from Brooklyn
I steal it back

Double L Train Canarsie, fit tags
Drippy markers albee Square, Coliseum
Fifty deep in Kings Plaza
Flat leavers, crack slingers, cap peelers
Rap singers blasted Desert Eagles
Turning tracks forever ether
While the war planes scatter nukes
Cross-played splatter goons
Sautéed magic shrooms
More strange antics soon
Blasting "Paid In Full, " Dog Day Afternoon
Had to pay my dues, fought James after school
I snuffed John Hayes in
Front of Captain Video
Next to the Arch Diner
Joey Haskell was with me too
That was before the gunplay
And Dapper Dan jackets
Bootleg Timberland leathers and
Automatic ratchets
Before Artie Artelino blew his face off
Playing Russian Roulette after he vacuumed
Up a 8 ball
From childhood to manhood in Kings County
From my hood to yours
We represent it proudly
Represent New York, represent Rowdy
Represent my whole crew, represent Howie

Ill Bill

L’Amour East [7 minutes of Ecstacy]

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