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Red Cafe
I'm Ill (feat. Fabolous) - Red Cafe
Writer(s): Robert Ginyard Jr., James Brown
Publisher(s): Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group, Warner Chappell Music, Inc.
RAH! RAH! I'm ill! I'm ill! I'm ill!
RAH! RAH! I'm ill! I'm ill! I'm ill!
RAH! RAH! I'm ill! I'm ill! I'm ill!
MOTHERFUCKER I'm ILL! RAH! RAH!
Pop deuce spot, kid latch off
Still rap white, that Ash Roth
That uncut, that sushi
I'm two G, that's Gucci (what else)
I'm bossed up, they washed up
E'ryday that cush I cough up
Buy all cash, we don't rent out
I'm ill, swag in the penthouse
Been a Konvict, ask Akon
Had blocks locked, ask Avon
That's real talk, what's up B'Mo! (Yep!)
Bad Boy got Diddy on the T'Mo (WHAT ELSE!)
I'm ill, make it look simple
DJ bring it back like a rental
Drinks don't stop, we party all night
And e'rywhere I go, I let it go like
RAH! RAH! I'm ill! I'm ill! I'm ill!
RAH! RAH! I'm ill! I'm ill! I'm ill!
RAH! RAH! I'm ill! I'm ill! I'm ill!
MOTHERFUCKER I'm ILL! RAH! RAH!
If my name was Willis
They'll prol'ly call me Will
But I'm the illest so that's
Why they call me ill
Ew! You niggas disgust me
And they ain't talking 'bout shit
Unless they discuss me
Funeral Fab, yeah I'm in the building y'all
All black on and I be killing y'all
So, the name speak for it'self
You have a loser plus a
Lame that'll equal yourself
Live from Bedford-Stuyvesant, the livest ones
Still on my Grizzlies, no Iverson
(Waddup AI?)
You ain't no gangsta, you an off-duty cop
With ya fake ass
They should call you booty shots
Yankee game, better seats than Rudy got
Fruity pot has me wit the eyes Matsui got
(nice) that nigga, that you are not
Red dot on ya head's the best tattoo you got
RAH! RAH! I'm ill! I'm ill! I'm ill!
RAH! RAH! I'm ill! I'm ill! I'm ill!
RAH! RAH! I'm ill! I'm ill! I'm ill!
MOTHERFUCKER I'm ILL! RAH! RAH!
They trash! And I'm ill!
I'm too hot, how the fuck I'm 'gon chill?
Laid back, Maybach, back seat
I'm "Ballin" like a athlete
Talk is cheap, everyone could afford it
Shakedown here, now everyone applaud
Now it's showtime, time to camcord
I'm in the building, and I'm the landlord
From the east, opposite of Kanye
No appetizers it's just entrees
Just four doors, maybe a couple Coupes
Everybody's eating, no Cup A Soup's
General R, just showed up
Don't pass me nothing already rolled up
Drinks don't stop, party all night
And everywhere I go, I let it go like:
RAH! RAH! I'm ill! I'm ill! I'm ill!
RAH! RAH! I'm ill! I'm ill! I'm ill!
RAH! RAH! I'm ill! I'm ill! I'm ill!
MOTHERFUCKER I'm ILL! RAH! RAH!
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