Razor Blade Vomit - Illa Ghee

Yeah

Uh huh

Illa

Man gotta die, knock the spots off of Spotify

Now you’ve been spotted, each verse be sodomized

Two goon creeping to black maroon fever

Dark sky breather, I’ll bullet wound your Caesar

Peter paid Paul, but I shot Paul for Peter

I’m not King James or Paul (?) either

Whoever want war with rap

I’ll have your jaws tapped

Try to call Illa Ghee out and get your call back

Yeah

Get clapped at close range

Come in front your king and clothesline your gold chain

A lot more guns than Butterballs from Ving Rhames

Batman’s (?) and my genius is insane

Analyze I infect your inner ear

Spit like parole so our souls won’t interfere

Step into the pit, I’ll slay

Clear out day

Automated heroin that spits out gray

Pardon my handgun, I’m jumping out of vans

Like I’m playing with enemies I lay you where you stand

Fucking lames

I never played that game

If I learned anything its how to aim

Speaking of which I’ll give your mind frame something to sniff

I was born with a fifth and a couple of clips

Triple that, times six, I’m piff, I’m sick

I could finger fuck bitches with bullets and chew bricks

I’m a mosh pit, black Mossberg under armpit

Talk Islamic, razor blades are vomit

Black Adonis, backshotting on you Pocahantas

In the Bahamas trying to carry back a bunch of llamas

Hog tied to an incubus' harddrive

Slug pass by like the Pharcyde

Do or die

Who do you think is gonna win if its you and I?

Here’s your coffin, I’m telling you you’re gonna die

I’m telling you you’re gonna die

Die motherfucker die

Die motherfucker die

Die motherfucker die