"You know we gonna ill" --]scratched
What...set it off what
My n***a Prim
Black Poet

[Verse 1]
Fuck the dumb shit, n***as want drama
You know who to come kid, the cappital P the o-et
Smash motherfuckers up, crush motherfuckers up
Leave your body in the closet for a motherfucking month
N***as know my flow's relentless I said it I ment this
N***as get high, bitches get bent
Everybody knows Poet's on some hood shit
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, fuckin' 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, drugs chop my shit, n***a
Lyrics gotta throw blood kill ya weak n***as
Represent, all thugs and all money getters
I live some green and blings and shit 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 fuck yu didn't sign 'em?"
"He brought in a mansion and a hot boy diamands"
Should have gave me the world, stupid fuck
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 shit, and not the dough
I write my own rhymes cause I like this shit to death
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, shit 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, shit 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...