Offensive Lines - Ill Bill, Slaine, Action Bronson

They say this story is a myth and they bore my with they if’s

They can never understand me, notorious is is

A fighter fallen deep into the warriors abyss

I got a mixed up past, it warrants me to flip

I got my dick sucked fast, in the sixth grade from a bitch

With a switchblade who used to twist up grass

She never learned nothing cuz' the bitch cut class

I never learned nothing either, but puffin reefer and stuffing beaver

I grew into a sick fuck fast

An unstable addle

My dumb neighbors taddle

Cops knocking on the door, I do my thing no hassle

I’m saying I ain’t playing

I am the king of this castle

The casa of the asshole

The cash when you passcode

You little local rappers back off, I’m international

Stamps in my passport

Billboards in Moscow

Phone ringing off the hook

I can’t answer it, not now

Come on, with me

So they told me, they never disown me and I believed it

The gold oakley lenses reflecin' and deceivin'

Chicken shit, fucking pussy, asshole

If not for me, you wouldn’t even have a cash flow

Never held a gun but you blast though

Haha stupid

I’m in there getting money

You in there playing cupid

I’m coming through in a coupe without the roof in

Bitch by my side with the ass strictly for boofing

Enough of that though, never judge a book off a first look

Just a cook off the first tote

If its right then you sell it, get a good boat

And if ya lucky, get a shorty with a wood throat

No yeast, you fucking with the three beasts

Deca Durabolin shooting three CC’s

Get off the wenis, make her kiss the rim

Sour intravenous, piss away the sin

Come on, with me

Yo, they say this story is a myth

But I’m gloriously sick, Ill Bill, I’m like a walking emporium of piff

I abacinate, poke you in the cornea with spliffs

I assassinate, smoke you and your shorty with the fifth

I will lacerate, cut you up and throw you in the car trunk

Ask who’s great, you could be the last thing these maggots taste

Tie your feet and hands with tape, dead rats stuffed up in ya' mouth

Lock you in the casket, now you can’t escape

Homie you a bitch, throw you in the ditch

Smother you in dirt, with the worms, now you don’t exist

Murder is my favorite thing, body everything

Pull out the chopper like Harley Davidson and start spraying things

We La Coka Nostra, gun jam, beat you with the broken toaster

Leave you in the dumpster in the back of Roll-N-Roaster

On Emmons Avenue, splatter you, having you crying to Zeus like Olivia New,

Xanadu

Come on, with me, set your self free

Let the music take you away