(feat. DJ Premier)

[scratched] "You know we gonna ill"

What...set it off what
My ^!$$% Prim
Black Poet


[Verse 1]
$#&@ the dumb %#@!, ^!$$%z want drama

You know who to come kid, the cappital P the o-et
Smash mother$#&@ers up, crush mother$#&@ers up
Leave your body in the closet for a mother$#&@ing month

^!$$%z know my flow's relentless I said it I ment this
^!$$%z get high, (*##$es get bent
Everybody knows Poet's on some hood %#@!

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 ^!$$% better bang

Watch them hoes, watch them snakes
Real ^!$$%z in the game, $#&@ who ???
Real ^!$$%z in the game knows what it takes

And real ^!$$%z let you know what's real and fake
Like my ^!$$% Primo, he reach stile to me yo
Whereever he goes, I go, se, he me amigo

And we gonna ill

[Chorus: scratching by DJ Premier]


"You know we gonna ill" [x2]
"With love to those who died in the field

So many names we don't got room to spit them"
"This ain't a game ^!$$%"
"You know we gonna ill" [x3]


[Verse 2]
What, what, aha, yeah, yeah


I sat back I watch ya ^!$$%z and clacked ya ^!$$%z
Played you on my box since I put rocks and figures

Got it through this life, drugs chop my %#@!, ^!$$%
Lyrics gotta throw blood kill ya weak ^!$$%z
Represent, all thugs and all money getters

I live some green and blings and %#@! 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 ^!$$% right there

CEO's screaming "why the $#&@ yu didn't sign 'em?"
"He brought in a mansion and a hot boy diamands"
Should have gave me the world, stupid $#&@

Look how I'm rhymin', wildin', calmin', poundin', grindin'
I ain't lyin'
Mad ^!$$%z try with me, die with me

Belive it ^!$$%, you don't wanna have to colide with me
We gonna ill


[Chorus]

[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 %#@!, and not the dough

I write my own rhymes 'cause I like this %#@! to death
^!$$%z 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, %#@! is gettin more real

My ^!$$%z in QB, I'm leaving you to heal
'cause I'm off the wall and I'm Illmaticly ill

[Chorus]


[Female singer: x2]

You know and I know, %#@! is real
Poet and Primo, them ^!$$%z gon' ill
The whole industry's about, blacks and feal

Poet and Primo, them ^!$$%z gon' ill

You know, I know, we gonna ill [x2]
We're gonna ill...