Typ Statik

[Intro] Let's go man Typ iLL Typ Real.... [Verse 1: Typ iLL] The devil forever talk to me Sometimes I respond when I feel that Gods ignoring me Playing both sides of the fence that devils advocate I sell my soul for success on levels I haven't been (Been) This rapping is too divine and I'm asking the Lord for help My passion is intertwined with the sabotage of myself Long Island boy with a city flow Shout out to Fizzy Wo Pat me on the back of my leather jacket after the show Back of the knitting factory, told me to go Dropped a gem on me and he probably didn't even know Goes to show, mass influence what my predecessors bring I'm a rider for the cause since the adolescent scene Stress elevated, my back is against the wall Lock and loaded the M-4 when I'm in the war The flash banger, the cash flinger, I'm no stranger To stash bangers insides my mattress, I know danger Always prepared for a fucker to violate me Used to not really care but I realize some guys hate me My team leaning, we blunt steaming a still dreamin' Living on tour, couple of whores, they're still fiendin' Chorus: Scratches [Verse 2: Typ iLL] These hoes is jaw dropping, draw dropping, Im whore shoppin' Nah, I'm playing I love 'em they're floor shopping Give them a couple dollars and tell them 'bout more options Black heels, black string, she's sure gothic Got me on my creep shit like Rubble Rubble She's feeling nice, she pop that pussy like that trouble bubble And who am I? A journey man who's on course Never needed a compass, solo with no accomplice 'Til that missions accomplished, my dedications real Educated through living, that's how I became iLL Still with the same dreams that I had then Only difference now this present and that's past tense Pockets looking bigger and I'm pushing something heavy kid We love the haters foreal, big up to Eddie Figs I can feel when love is love Only God, he knows the deal aside from mothers love My bed is made with all the covers up My shorty want that pillow talk but never that, I know what's up Heard too many stories of these bitches and those cover ups You should know me better In my recliner with my notebook in that stormy weather My feelings reflect the story better...Typ [Chorus]