Too Ill

Feat. Ellie [Intro: Lounge Lo] Yeah, yo, yea... "Too ill.. too ill, I represent Park Hill" - Cappadonna sample 4X Black, black man... what? That's how That's how we doing it... yo Cap, what up son? [Lounge Lo] I'm politicking with the roughest, craziest, live muthafucka The Killah Hill niggas that bring the ruckus Rap connect, the theropist slang, ain't even bomb yet '98, 19, you catch me on Saddam set Blowing shit through the roof, with undercover root With a big bad explosion like poof Peace to fat Smooth from the Hot 9, God, pump up ya knob By my entourage squad, convoy, we fifty cards Hot squad ready to rock for C Wigs Those my nigs, fucking with me, son, you know Diggs I thought you will, cuz we get ill, like Park Hill One love to my cousin on that twenty dollar bill I walk the walk, city streets, had to feed Twenty thugs, without of the slug, under my glove Cuz everything is love love, so what the deal be Can you feel me, representing, keep it real, see I like it raw, Killa Hill 'jects since 25 But I've been to 24, the average won't survive It's like the army in the ghetto, puff high and pack metal Rollerskating flowerhead cupcakes that wanna get hope [Chorus 4X: Ellie] Don't you know, don't you know "Too ill.. too ill, I represent Park Hill" - Cappadonna sample Loungin' Lo, Loungin' Lo [Lounge Lo] Now I'm posted by the Ooh, hostler with my two tool Conversating with Blue, twenty guards, plus my rifle gun salute Parachute flutes, who wanna due Like Bo and Luke, it's getting shot down with my nuclear Earthquake, your whole block shake from the twelve guage It's calico gun hawk, who walk with a skunk mate Big boys hold they weight, yo I remember 5D With Deck, Kase, Raid' and A.P And Shakuan, Parle, 2 Cent and L.G Cappadon', Kaze and G.C P.L.O. turban tied twisted tight Yo, Streetlife, nigga, hit the staircase light You got to get rich, hunting them ammo for grits Eighteen cane, with shine rolly on the wrist With a tennis brace', matching pinky ring, Louis neck-lace My tech face'll have you sitting down on the set plate For one time, wanna take my son for some time Photograph on the online, just because you want crime Two thousand under the scene, I let it be Marinating with a crab tree, smoking on a bad leaf [Chorus 4X] [Lounge Lo] I jelly through the city like the homeless on train You know my name, Loungin' Lo from hanging out with Wu-Tang You see me at the venue, now watch me get up in you Coppin' bags at the menu, son, it really didn't matter So what's the chit-chatter on that cat you want to splatter Your verse, now watch me versus, and I'mma hurt that And show you where my works at, your hot spot, burst that Niggas still talking like bitches and hitting switches These road to the riches, follow suit with my wishes The thangs that I'm doing now, I never did Like doing shows in bigger modes, instead of sling crack for kids My tongue slip before, and how I sling shit again To get to ten, but this time, it's me and my men, son A thousand and one, big boy that hold a gun O-6-1 style, politicking with son I'm "too ill, I represent Park Hill" - Cappadonna sample [Chorus 4X]