It's Us

[Chorus]

It's the N-O-N, P, H, I, X, I-O-N [x4]

[Ill Bill]

What does that spell? It spell Non Phixion my friend

The Future Is Now, nuclear shower y'all powerball

I devour all, buildings collapse, towers fall

Killers with gats, millions of carnivores start the war

I shoot rocket launchers riding on dinosaurs

Flying saucers meet the Bible's author

Reveal alien tribal culture

Who the sign of DNA structure

Genetic functions will me made into that of which was God's construction?

Now bust the combustion Big Bang

Gangbangers that spit slang

Be the truth, not that King James version they teach in schools

Jesus knew, he was thugged out too

A bugged out dude, a loose cannon

In my future we use Magnums, bombs and explosions

I spit like Muhammed and Moses

Ganja smokin, thoughts in constant motion, my mind is ferocious

I spit for gangstas and baby decks that defy prognosis

It's Ill Bill, my reality's my psychosis

[Chorus x4]

[Goretex]

What does that spell? It spells Non Phixion my friend

A brave new world, the slave for more gods to men

Bars of phlegm so therapeutic it's part of the end

The way I spit pain it's hard to pretend, hardly depends

Sticking up delis for quick chips and starving again

Our marketing plan's guarantee I'll be parking a Benz

My words are like carcinogens, we be starting the trends

I sharpen the edge with sixteen bars to defend

The arm, leg, leg, arm, head God is HaShem

Non Phixion extra-terrestrials, Martians with Tims

Smart as the dead, we at war with the Narcs and the Feds

Uncle Howie sparkin the stem with the positive grin

Napalm shots, Israeli camo, ammo with the car bomb

I don't exist, close the garage and leave the car on

Amen, suicide watch and state pen

Street trilogy, one love I'll see you again

[Chorus x4]

[Sabac Red]

What does that spell? It spells Non Phixion my friend

These predicaments got me thinking, spitting again

Living a thousand lives, died a thousand deaths

Been on house arrest

Lost control, tortured soul depressed

Watch how foul it gets

Suicidal thoughts, wrists slit, it's overdose

Wigs split, mixed with coke, fix the road a comatose

Eyes bulging, mind swollen, my spirit left the physical

Burning skin, return again, redeem the breath of miracles

You're born suspects, we love porn sex

The drug Ex make the thugs get wild and bust sets

Like a gangsta, our music stimulates your brain

Make you wanna bang something start to create change

I'm hard to breathe, just before the gods and the thieves

If we want peace then why is it so hard to achieve?

I believe in us, when you faggots sleep on the gods

Uncle Howie, Non Phixion bitch, we beating the odds

[Chorus x4]