ILL Street Blues

Oh, yeah word up word to mother
 Here comes G Rap with another one y'all
 We going to swing it like this
 I'm right in front of my front steps thinking of a plan
 Looking like Raggedy Ann no dough in hand kicking a can
 Thinking of a plot to pull some bank in
 'cause I'm dead and stinking
 Soles on my shoes winking t shirt is shrinking
 Soon I see some ties and my eyes open wide quick
 Who's that with you, chick?
 Bill Blass my sidekick
 What's up, black?
 Give his hand a smack
 Then up pulls a Cadillac, yo baby we'll be back
 Jumped right on inside, not too many people saw us
 Thinking about who gotta get robbed 'cause the mob got a job for us
 The drove us down to the sober section
 Of town where the clowns don't be paying for protection
 The want us to send a message to Jimmy the bartender
 Lend a friend the money next you're ripping off his car fenders
 He's coming up short 'cause he snorts
 Coke, dope, nope, and hope he don't get caught
 He owes some Benjamin Franklins, every last bit of em
 But Jimmy's pockets are empty
 So now we gotta get rid of him
 But Jimmy's wife is with him and they don't want to involve her
 Hopped out the back seat they gave me a revolver
 Blass, you distract him while I go and whack him
 Entered through the back side of the bar and then attacked him
 He's screaming for his life, reaching for his wife
 Shot him in the back of the head and shanked him with a knife
 And that goes for anybody who's gotta pay they dues
 You lose, 'cause I got the Ill Street Blues
 You lose, 'cause I got the Ill Street Blues
 You lose, 'cause I got the Ill Street Blues
 You lose, 'cause I got the Ill Street Blues
 You lose, 'cause I got the Ill Street Blues
 Suckers I clobber, 'cause my town is full of cops and robbers
 You're not promised tomorrow in this Little Shop of Horrors
 So I got to get with the business of hit quick
 Moneygrip's pocket's looking thick so I stick Slick
 Hold it right here
 Hands in the air
 I know you got the loop
 Or better yet, face down on the ground, empty your pockets troop
 Hit the deck I got the Tech right on your neck
 And I expect to make a buck to heck with a traveler's check
 But if a vic' tries to choke me
 I'll have to smoke him like I'm Smokey the Bear, so okie dokie
 Goodbye, or bon voyage, have a good journey
 Don't even try begging for your life, that don't concern me
 So to the next weasel that freezes
 Your begging and your pleases only getting you closer to meeting Jesus
 Yeah, I shake a schmuck just to make a buck
 Then I break a duck and if the duck gotta get bucked then I don't give a fuck
 Hyper as a sniper piping niggas like a plumber
 Cold Viking and sticking up the ones that run the numbers
 Or even a bigger score, the lady in the liquor store
 Go inside and kick in the door, pull her then I'm stickin' her for
 Money or your life, honey hurry and choose
 You lose, 'cause I got the Ill Street Blues
 You lose, 'cause I got the Ill Street Blues
 You lose, 'cause I got the Ill Street Blues
 You lose, 'cause I got the Ill Street Blues
 You lose, 'cause I got the Ill Street Blues
 Extra, extra read all about it in the papers
 The boss tried to rape us, so we tossed him off the skyscraper
 'cause he pulled some other people to try and hit us
 Get us, but none of them did us, he must be trying to kid us
 But that's dead, I'll thank God in the red, 'cross the bread borders
 So nobody can short us, he fled down to headquarters
 Ready to put some work in, we're not a lazy crew
 We'll do a job or two but yo, the man can't even stick me with some Crazy Glue
 Ready to tore him even more 'cause she saw him
 We took out all the lookouts in the front and kicked his door in
 What's up snake, why'd you violate?
 'Cause I'm a hossa (what's that?)
 Yo, that's a pig that don't fly straight, getting ready to jab him
 I grabbed him by the necktie
 Homie tried to get fly and swing I gave him a decked eye
 You know the evil that men do, hell is where the men go
 We snatched him by his hands and feet and threw him out the window
 Up, up, and away 'cause I don't play, clown
 Buck, buck, buck, take that with you on the way down
 I'm hoping you got springs and wings on your shoes
 But you lose, 'cause I got the Ill Street Blues
 You lose, 'cause I got the Ill Street Blues
 You lose, 'cause I got the Ill Street Blues
 You lose, 'cause I got the Ill Street Blues
 You lose, 'cause I got the Ill Street Blues