Canarsie Artie's Brigade Lyrics
| Song | Canarsie Artie's Brigade |
| Artist | Ill Bill |
| Album | Ill Bill - What's Wrong With Bill ((Instrumentals)) |
| Download | Image LRC TXT |
| 作曲 : Braunstein, Braunstein ... | |
| (Ill Bill) | |
| You like to take drugs and hear music, my album is engineered | |
| Like biotechnology, attach me to ya ear | |
| I make the devil do the work of God and God do evil | |
| I'm both positive and negative, I'm like two people | |
| Both from New York, New York, so trife they named it twice | |
| Only idiots is broke, the hood is paved with ice | |
| Paved with gold but never let it rape ya soul | |
| Turn the tables on the dough homie take control | |
| Fuck not eatin' shot the sheriff, made 'em stop breathin' | |
| Anybody that ever fucked with me I got even | |
| Wanna be here hardcore homie but you not leavin' | |
| Starin' down at yourself prayin' maybe you'll stop bleedin' | |
| God hates us all, use a brick to decorate the wall | |
| Put a bullet in ya dome, desecrate ya skull | |
| A world of pain so hot, Bill burst into flames | |
| Psychological spit it like a person deranged | |
| (Necro) | |
| I'm one of Brooklyn's best sickos, I'm not egotistical | |
| Just statin' facts hollow tip bullets keep the biscuit full | |
| My rap speaks for itself, its alive | |
| It says fuck with me and I'll have to murder you to survive | |
| Their ain't many like me not too many like me | |
| Too many wanna be like me it's not likely | |
| Ya packin' a sword and a bat | |
| But me I'm runnin' across the chessboard with a gat, ain't that ya queen | |
| I don't gotta play this game clean | |
| But I'm a play it like I mean business and I'm a utilize my brain to scheme | |
| Rap been producin' directin' pimpin' an evil thinkin' clappin' | |
| It's gruesome dissections | |
| I started rhymin' in 88 like eighth grade in New York state | |
| The only emotion I displayed was hate | |
| From pigs with gats and kids that rapped | |
| Fuck a snitch, you can't blame me for an animal like that | |
| (Q-Unique) | |
| I clash with the mind of a machathetto | |
| And laugh if you cryin' when I blast the metal | |
| March with an army of darkness until ya shotty go shot less | |
| With a cock that'll make ya mommy drop topless | |
| Write a bible quote with his blood on the wall | |
| Another horror flick victim is just, runnin' to fall | |
| Now the FBI say that theirs a nut on the crawl | |
| It's Q the fuckin' maniac, brought a gun to the brawl | |
| Pop the tow truck cop from my automobile | |
| Then slide up in the club and party with my portable steel | |
| Violence for the violent consumer, keep ya ear to the beat | |
| Ya eyes glued to the luger and true to the herd | |
| Hopin' to hurt ya fancy life | |
| Cuz I paid taxes and vote for the anti Christ | |
| Unholy trinity, vacate the whole vicinity | |
| Scrappin' dignity and quickly take the hoes virginity | |
| (Gortex) | |
| Cause back to before zodiacs, sharpshooter, top of the pack | |
| I keep it poppin' like I'm thrown in Iraq | |
| Y'all know the cults back, the most hated with the sickest flow | |
| Control freak handin' out cups like I was Jim Jones | |
| Bury the rubble, half y'all live in the bubble | |
| Fakin' my own death to forge passports and body doubles | |
| Flash to 86, bubble coats toast and sneakers | |
| Slay ya wrists, keep the posse thick, ropes and beepers | |
| Dead celebrities, real life ain't as dope as the movies | |
| Mental funeral the trauma unit since it was juvis | |
| Out the hood groupies, coke head thugs and rock cuties | |
| Motley Crue sluts love to chew cock and cop boobies | |
| Swing the war hammer, see me on tour flyin' the Gor banner | |
| The pigs tryin' to catch me out shoppin' I'm so modest | |
| The gods are metal so consider the dream | |
| Elvis is dead and 2Pac, he livin' in Queens |
| zuo qu : Braunstein, Braunstein ... | |
| Ill Bill | |
| You like to take drugs and hear music, my album is engineered | |
| Like biotechnology, attach me to ya ear | |
| I make the devil do the work of God and God do evil | |
| I' m both positive and negative, I' m like two people | |
| Both from New York, New York, so trife they named it twice | |
| Only idiots is broke, the hood is paved with ice | |
| Paved with gold but never let it rape ya soul | |
| Turn the tables on the dough homie take control | |
| Fuck not eatin' shot the sheriff, made ' em stop breathin' | |
| Anybody that ever fucked with me I got even | |
| Wanna be here hardcore homie but you not leavin' | |
| Starin' down at yourself prayin' maybe you' ll stop bleedin' | |
| God hates us all, use a brick to decorate the wall | |
| Put a bullet in ya dome, desecrate ya skull | |
| A world of pain so hot, Bill burst into flames | |
| Psychological spit it like a person deranged | |
| Necro | |
| I' m one of Brooklyn' s best sickos, I' m not egotistical | |
| Just statin' facts hollow tip bullets keep the biscuit full | |
| My rap speaks for itself, its alive | |
| It says fuck with me and I' ll have to murder you to survive | |
| Their ain' t many like me not too many like me | |
| Too many wanna be like me it' s not likely | |
| Ya packin' a sword and a bat | |
| But me I' m runnin' across the chessboard with a gat, ain' t that ya queen | |
| I don' t gotta play this game clean | |
| But I' m a play it like I mean business and I' m a utilize my brain to scheme | |
| Rap been producin' directin' pimpin' an evil thinkin' clappin' | |
| It' s gruesome dissections | |
| I started rhymin' in 88 like eighth grade in New York state | |
| The only emotion I displayed was hate | |
| From pigs with gats and kids that rapped | |
| Fuck a snitch, you can' t blame me for an animal like that | |
| QUnique | |
| I clash with the mind of a machathetto | |
| And laugh if you cryin' when I blast the metal | |
| March with an army of darkness until ya shotty go shot less | |
| With a cock that' ll make ya mommy drop topless | |
| Write a bible quote with his blood on the wall | |
| Another horror flick victim is just, runnin' to fall | |
| Now the FBI say that theirs a nut on the crawl | |
| It' s Q the fuckin' maniac, brought a gun to the brawl | |
| Pop the tow truck cop from my automobile | |
| Then slide up in the club and party with my portable steel | |
| Violence for the violent consumer, keep ya ear to the beat | |
| Ya eyes glued to the luger and true to the herd | |
| Hopin' to hurt ya fancy life | |
| Cuz I paid taxes and vote for the anti Christ | |
| Unholy trinity, vacate the whole vicinity | |
| Scrappin' dignity and quickly take the hoes virginity | |
| Gortex | |
| Cause back to before zodiacs, sharpshooter, top of the pack | |
| I keep it poppin' like I' m thrown in Iraq | |
| Y' all know the cults back, the most hated with the sickest flow | |
| Control freak handin' out cups like I was Jim Jones | |
| Bury the rubble, half y' all live in the bubble | |
| Fakin' my own death to forge passports and body doubles | |
| Flash to 86, bubble coats toast and sneakers | |
| Slay ya wrists, keep the posse thick, ropes and beepers | |
| Dead celebrities, real life ain' t as dope as the movies | |
| Mental funeral the trauma unit since it was juvis | |
| Out the hood groupies, coke head thugs and rock cuties | |
| Motley Crue sluts love to chew cock and cop boobies | |
| Swing the war hammer, see me on tour flyin' the Gor banner | |
| The pigs tryin' to catch me out shoppin' I' m so modest | |
| The gods are metal so consider the dream | |
| Elvis is dead and 2Pac, he livin' in Queens |
| zuò qǔ : Braunstein, Braunstein ... | |
| Ill Bill | |
| You like to take drugs and hear music, my album is engineered | |
| Like biotechnology, attach me to ya ear | |
| I make the devil do the work of God and God do evil | |
| I' m both positive and negative, I' m like two people | |
| Both from New York, New York, so trife they named it twice | |
| Only idiots is broke, the hood is paved with ice | |
| Paved with gold but never let it rape ya soul | |
| Turn the tables on the dough homie take control | |
| Fuck not eatin' shot the sheriff, made ' em stop breathin' | |
| Anybody that ever fucked with me I got even | |
| Wanna be here hardcore homie but you not leavin' | |
| Starin' down at yourself prayin' maybe you' ll stop bleedin' | |
| God hates us all, use a brick to decorate the wall | |
| Put a bullet in ya dome, desecrate ya skull | |
| A world of pain so hot, Bill burst into flames | |
| Psychological spit it like a person deranged | |
| Necro | |
| I' m one of Brooklyn' s best sickos, I' m not egotistical | |
| Just statin' facts hollow tip bullets keep the biscuit full | |
| My rap speaks for itself, its alive | |
| It says fuck with me and I' ll have to murder you to survive | |
| Their ain' t many like me not too many like me | |
| Too many wanna be like me it' s not likely | |
| Ya packin' a sword and a bat | |
| But me I' m runnin' across the chessboard with a gat, ain' t that ya queen | |
| I don' t gotta play this game clean | |
| But I' m a play it like I mean business and I' m a utilize my brain to scheme | |
| Rap been producin' directin' pimpin' an evil thinkin' clappin' | |
| It' s gruesome dissections | |
| I started rhymin' in 88 like eighth grade in New York state | |
| The only emotion I displayed was hate | |
| From pigs with gats and kids that rapped | |
| Fuck a snitch, you can' t blame me for an animal like that | |
| QUnique | |
| I clash with the mind of a machathetto | |
| And laugh if you cryin' when I blast the metal | |
| March with an army of darkness until ya shotty go shot less | |
| With a cock that' ll make ya mommy drop topless | |
| Write a bible quote with his blood on the wall | |
| Another horror flick victim is just, runnin' to fall | |
| Now the FBI say that theirs a nut on the crawl | |
| It' s Q the fuckin' maniac, brought a gun to the brawl | |
| Pop the tow truck cop from my automobile | |
| Then slide up in the club and party with my portable steel | |
| Violence for the violent consumer, keep ya ear to the beat | |
| Ya eyes glued to the luger and true to the herd | |
| Hopin' to hurt ya fancy life | |
| Cuz I paid taxes and vote for the anti Christ | |
| Unholy trinity, vacate the whole vicinity | |
| Scrappin' dignity and quickly take the hoes virginity | |
| Gortex | |
| Cause back to before zodiacs, sharpshooter, top of the pack | |
| I keep it poppin' like I' m thrown in Iraq | |
| Y' all know the cults back, the most hated with the sickest flow | |
| Control freak handin' out cups like I was Jim Jones | |
| Bury the rubble, half y' all live in the bubble | |
| Fakin' my own death to forge passports and body doubles | |
| Flash to 86, bubble coats toast and sneakers | |
| Slay ya wrists, keep the posse thick, ropes and beepers | |
| Dead celebrities, real life ain' t as dope as the movies | |
| Mental funeral the trauma unit since it was juvis | |
| Out the hood groupies, coke head thugs and rock cuties | |
| Motley Crue sluts love to chew cock and cop boobies | |
| Swing the war hammer, see me on tour flyin' the Gor banner | |
| The pigs tryin' to catch me out shoppin' I' m so modest | |
| The gods are metal so consider the dream | |
| Elvis is dead and 2Pac, he livin' in Queens |
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