Twisted Insane - ILL Smith lyrics

[Verse 1: Twisted Insane] Born and raised in California the city of the stoner Pushin' a whip up on a b**h and when I hop in I be on her And they blow my phone up, never really did when I was a bum Now I become hot as Arizona Post up in a bucket all night saying "f** it!" cause I really got nowhere to go, and I was broke and homeless That's way too many then, see, I was penny pinching I could not afford to pull up in a Honda Accord with the chrome ones Mixin' the women with the wicked and the alcohol f** it, you could spend it homie, we about to ball Sick of all these rappers that be actin' like they rapping tight But really half them people wasn't saying sh** at all Go ahead mothaf**a, talk about your ice You in Lamborghinis, we don't even got a ride Sick of the ones that always talk a lot about the sh** they got When other n***as come around they often run and hide You can probably find me somewhere in the alley gettin' high Drinkin' all my life away as time pa**es by I could'a been in medicine I could'a been a president I wanna ask the Lord but sh** why ask why? Four racks in my pocket from the Mayweather fight I made a grip, and finna bet nobody smacking a homie Bought a Honda, weed and gang of swisha sweets Some new Chuck Tee's, a couple T's, and a slice of Bologna God Damn! Never really couldn't manage myself They say I'm schizophrenic, man, I really need help I told you it's the voices that be talking to me, giving me subliminals That's how you make your faces all melt Little n***a wanna trip, I will unbuckle my belt And get to whooping on 'im in front of his girl, I'm a devil Rippin' mothaf**ers into pieces, now the n***a pray to Jesus Really ain't no other rapper on my level [Verse 2: Rittz] ILL Smith f** a Fresh Prince Murder every rapper in the game and left prints Homie, let's dance Being fresh put me on, I felt like it's my last chance of making a haters wanna hide the dues and be friends Let's hide all my cynical A product unidentical; rappers talking a lot They biting but they bite is just miniature To me you don't resemble a G but you keep on talking lot I'll stomp you out and put a Nike emblem print on you Anyone messing with my crew might get pushed to finish you And end your career I've been loose but I'm winnin' this year A lot of s**as' actin' like a bunch of women they scared They swear they hard but start to tremble when the pistol appear I'm [?] I'm writing, eating Xanax, Atlantis, a lot of strippers I bet you wish you was here 85 pound drunks out here pissing their pants Turn on the radio and it's this the right station, it's weird I hear rappers singing RnB [?] While I'm in my Cut Supreme with some green s**er free, on the weed I got in anything you need Give a scream down the street Because we gotta put the meat on the cheese While the beat riding I got the blow and got the bars Close to overdose and I just hope I see tomorrow Nobody really cared when I was broke and 'bout to starve So why should I give a f** whats up with Khloé and Lamar!? Cause they got a grand problem Nerds on the internet be talking mad blogging, I'm bout to snap on em I'm fixing to bust his head and there'll be a black coffin This rapping sh** don't work, I'm in a black mask robbing Mock it, think the spittin' sh**s lame Johny, stop! No crossing over, can't get in this lane Two of the best that ever did it Rittz and Twisted Insane Taking over this game, so remember his name: ILL Smith b**h, Yuh-uh-Yeah