Wilbur Ba** - We Gonna Ill lyrics

"You know we gonna ill" --]scratched What...set it off what My n***a Prim Black Poet [Verse 1] f** the dumb sh**, n***as want drama You know who to come kid, the cappital P the o-et Smash motherf**ers up, crush motherf**ers up Leave your body in the closet for a motherf**ing month n***as know my flow's relentless I said it I ment this n***as get high, b**hes get bent Everybody knows Poet's on some hood sh** I wake every thug around the world tryin' to get rich If you're doing your thing then slinging your thing You know and I know n***a better bang Watch them hoes, watch them snakes Real n***as in the game, f**in' with cakes Real n***as in the game knows what it takes And real n***as let you know what's real and fake Like my n***a Primo, he reached out to me yo Whereever he goes, I go, se, he me amigo And we gonna ill [Hook: scratching by DJ Premier] "You know we gonna ill" 2X "With love to thugs that died in the field So many names we don't got room to spit them" "This ain't a game n***a" "You know we gonna ill" 3X [Verse 2] What, what, aha, yeah, yeah I sat back I watch ya n***as and clacked ya n***as Played you on my box since I put rocks and figures Got it through this life, d** chop my sh**, n***a Lyrics gotta throw blood k** ya weak n***as Represent, all thugs and all money getters I live some green and blings and sh** that glitters And plus, the word on the street is I hotter then 2 blaze of 9 millimetres You can't belive this A&R's, they pullin out their heads They get fierd cause they havd a n***a right there CEO's screaming "why the f** yu didn't sign 'em?" "He brought in a mansion and a hot boy diamands" Should have gave me the world, stupid f** Look how I'm rhymin', wildin', calmin', poundin', grindin' I ain't lyin' Mad n***as try with me, die with me Belive it n***a, you don't wanna have to colide with me We gonna ill [Hook] [Verse 3] Yo, got it together now, Mo' to them now Rest in peace pops, and my moms, I can't let it down Queensbridge representative, style's unlimeted Hot shots, hot rocks, I'm sendin' it Who else you know get flow like Po' For the love of this sh**, and not the dough I write my own rhymes cause I like this sh** to d**h n***as don't got respect, they just writin' the ceques I might sell 10 mill if I learned some stacks And bleach my skin and front like I'm from the projects But all I can be is me, and catch wreck As far as the eye can see, my whole set Screwball gang-stars, comin' in planes and cars Moet bottles with your brains on the ??? at the bar From now on, sh** is gettin more real My n***as in QB, I'm leaving you to heal Cause I'm off the wall and I'm Illmaticly ill [Hook] Female singer:(X2) You know and I know, sh** is real Poet and Primo, them n***as gon' ill The whole industry's about, blacks and feal Poet and Primo, them n***as gon' ill You know, I know, we gonna ill (X2) We're gonna ill...