ILL

Lyrics

[Intro] We do have meat Meat, it comes in several different flavors Mr. Mann enjoys the meat Enjoys removing your skin from your body Please, come in, have a seat Ah, made to perfection [Verse 1: Swifty McVay] Without a conscience, I spit llamas like I'm playing Contra My psychiatrist gettin' nauseous The opposite of a honest counselor Gangsta rappers and trappers get turned to pentacostals Holy Bibles, I'm cockin' the nina I had these motherfuckers leanin' likе the Tower of Pisa You a diva, and I'ma leavе your guts wide open Yeah, I peeped ya, you really a sheep in a wolf's clothing And you don't know the art of war (The art of war)- You're faker than mannequins at department stores (Department stores) I'm sicker than senior citizens in a psych wards I'm shittin' on rappers without a diaper, smearin' it on a chalkboard I'm a rap lord poppin' imposters When I walk in your spot, niggas feel awkward Suicide's the only way you gonna stop this brotha I'll pop myself in the brain while I'm shootin' my album cover McVay [Interlude] Mmm, Mr., Mr. Brotha Lynch Hung You think darkness is your ally? While you merely adopted the dark, I was born it Don't live by it Why, I didn't see light until I was already a man and by then, it was nothing to me but grinding [Verse 2: Brotha Lynch Hung] I'll make some gumbo out of your insides And then slide over to your family's, then cry (You okay?) Actin' like I give a fuck, love is a thin line Niggas wanna battle me? Nigga, get in line I eat meat like a tiger at dinn' time Deion Prime, nigga, take a seat and watch him rhyme So many styles like a boa constrictor I could hold ya and rip your mainframe then watch your skin fry Blood already been dry, I have a twin side It find out where you put your babies at and run inside I spit acid, I blast the fastest First nigga to do his album cover in a casket Shootin' holes in your Chevy Impala Have you callin' your mama, tell her you gettin' all of the drama First to ever do it, Obama Creepin' through your hallway with a butcher knife — dunna, dunna [Outro] (Who are you?) It doesn't matter who we are What matters is our plan No one cared who I was until I put on the mask (If I take it off, will you die?) It'd be extremely painful (Ah, you're a big guy) For you (Was getting caught part of the plan?) Of course