Go Ill

Sipping a pint of hen

Blowing a breath in the wind

Walk until the number 6 steady scuffing my timbs

Watching ballers ride by, trucks tinted with rims

Wearing the same Tommy coat I sported in grade 10

Cold as shit, lining on it way too thin

Get a lil peach fuzz growing in on my chin

On the same corner where I lost 10 of my friends

Throw on my diskman and I'm zoning again

To my baby momma crib and we boning again

Roll a j for a play then she moaning again

She let me hit it even though she know I'm boning her friend

Child support late cause I'm low on my ends

Student loans kicking in, broken again

Like bose hips so I'm smoking till I'm choking again

Walking High Park lonely

Not a dime on me

Feeling hungry stop beside the hills on Stony

Copped a ride to 53rd cause I needed a cut

Shot the shit for a second, Chris faded me up

Stopped to rock the wax browsing through used cd's

Thinking one day these niggaz gon' be looking for me

In nickels park jotting down Southside gospel

Writing verses like I was a Southside apostle

Trying to find myself still graduate high school

Staying on my toes like the old school Michael

Head to Kenwood tipping bums to get my liquor

Pint of Hennessey flaming hops and a snickers

It's called the hook is datch, you oughta try it

Shorty got nicks for sale, you trying to buy it

I might be straight but for now I'll be bent later

Head to Hammercove for some rolling papers

You can catch me on the island or Stony riding with homies

That ain't afraid to ride for their homies

Won't lie on their homies

But niggaz might die for their homies, take 5 for they homies

Cuz niggaz stay wilding for homies, on trial for they homies

Go ill where I grew up at

Smoke blunts ?

Wrote raps ?

Yeah I did that

Trying to make a dollar out of 15 cents

Hands clutched, knees bent

Writing rhymes to see rent

Uppity negro but steadily see dough

That's why I'm shooting off my lines like a free throw

Stalker with a snare

A hundred with a hot hat

Flow kick like a punter, let's call it climax

I make fresh rhymes, daily

Saying you spit better then me, must be crazy

Rob and Helen's baby, born in the 80's

Ride the beat same way that I do my ladies

Soft and sweet, long and hard but fast

Only talk to me if it involve my cash

When I'm on the mic they be hauling ass

Punk mc's running up they be crawling back

Five nine in height but I'm tall in rap

Style fat, Ruben Studdard all over the bull bap

In High Park after dark

Down 53rd blowing herb with university nerds

Watching Bradley slap box on the curb

Feeling hungry so I got me an urge for that