CORRECTAR LA LETRA
Letra : Ill On The Mic
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 f**kin' hypocrite, zip ya lip
Or I’ll have my fruity homie come over and lick ya d**k
Nobody listens to your music
On this beat, I’m finna spaz it
Kinda like Taz in a tornado
These b*t*hes playin' with my d**k like Play-Doh (F**k)
You sold the bag
I be runnin' harder than a NordicTrack
Don’t f**k 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 f**kin' 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
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 f**kin' hypocrite, zip ya lip
Or I’ll have my fruity homie come over and lick ya d**k
Nobody listens to your music
On this beat, I’m finna spaz it
Kinda like Taz in a tornado
These b*t*hes playin' with my d**k like Play-Doh (F**k)
You sold the bag
I be runnin' harder than a NordicTrack
Don’t f**k 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 f**kin' 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
