I'm Illy

[Verse 1]

Rebel for the hell of it, hella rich

Never have to sell a brick again—must I tell a bitch again?

The bullshit, I'm addressing; check, I'm on some next-level shit

Never been fucked in the game: I'm celibate

Rarely out my element, barely out the ghetto with

One foot out and one foot in, intelligent as fellas get

Listen, let's settle this; be clear—

I could fall back seven years; still, it ain't no one ahead of me

Consider it a blessing if you get to stand next to me

Five-star general, OG veteran

Caked like Entenmann's, blowing that celery

Stack that cash like the U.S. Treasury

Every single thing I ever did was done heavily

Rap until you're seventy, still ain't no catching me

Put it on my pops, Big Phil, and Beverly

Be standing on the top still after they bury me

Nose in the air: So stuck-up, arrogant

Ain't got long, hot songs: Best cherish it

'Cause when I drop mine, that's over: finito

You payin' for your foul like a free throw—bow!

Now, how could a nigga think that he could see me?

Other than the magazine covers or the TV?

Know I sold more mixtapes than your CD

You're waiting on your big break, praying you could be me

And you ain't made it far as D.C

On the low, I been all around the globe

Like a god, how they treat me

Broads hit they knees, eyes closed when they greet me

Mouth wide open, just begging me to skeet-skeet

You in a deep sleep—stop dreaming

I'm six albums in; for ten years, I been firing hot semen

The limelight's mine, I'm gleaming, beaming

Ask why I say I'm king? Bitch, I got my reasons (Hey!)

[Hook]

Wrist so frostbit (Yuh), neck so chilly (Bling)

All on my mind is to get more millys (Guap)

Niggas talk shit, that's silly (Ha)

"Shawty, he ain't about that, really" (Nah)

"Is he?" (Ayy) Nigga, I'm illy! (Yeah)

Haha! (Haha!) Haha! (Hey)

Ayy, I run this city, clearly (Bankhead)

Ayy, tell 'em, "Get lost, I'm busy" (Beat it!)

Really? (Yuh) Nigga, I'm illy (Ayy)

[Verse 2]

Where niggas get off? Piss off! (Yeah)

Me and mine ought to take time to pop a lid off

Shit, all over the whereabouts of me

Is y'all sick in your fuckin' mind? You figuring I'ma fizzle

Never cooled off: Tip scorching

Minimal injury, though they wishing me maximum misfortune

Number one, hands down; flows paint portraits

Everybody thinks you stink like horse shit

House full of chicks on some Girl Next Door shit

A king of oneself, thirty mil' out the store, quick

Of course, this case—lost all my endorsements

Tripled up on real estate, still buying more shit

But Tip bankrupt, according to your sources

I'm still caked up, along with more reinforcements

Tore shit up from the lobby to the rooftops

Officially the hottest nigga rapping since 2Pac

'Fore you rap 'bout me, best ask 'bout me

I'm out my fucking mind, need counseling

Please, don't doubt me; trust me, drama ain't nothing

It's all fun and games 'til somebody start busting

Limit my discussion when rappers be battling

I find out about it, better get to skee-daddling

Pack your family bags, move 'em out to Seattle, and

We ever cross paths, you'll need ambulance and bandages

Live life glamorous, so extravagant

Mandarin, Oriental, worldwide traveling

Hip-hop champion for real, though

You couldn't fuck with me with a Brazil ho, nigga

But still, though (Hey! Hahahaha)

[Hook]

Wrist so frostbit (Yuh), neck so chilly (Bling)

All on my mind (Hey) is to get more millys (Guap)

Niggas talk shit, that's silly (Ha)

"Shawty, he ain't about that, really" (Nah)

"Is he?" (Ayy) Nigga, I'm illy! (Yeah)

Haha! (Haha!) Haha! (Hey)

(Ayy, just remember, I do this shit when I want to, nigga. It's me, nigga!)

Ayy, I run this city, clearly (Bankhead! Zone 1, homie!)

Ayy, tell 'em, "Get lost, I'm busy" (Beat it!)

Really? (Yuh) Nigga, I'm illy (Ayy)

Wrist so frostbit (Yuh), neck so chilly (Bling)

All on my mind is to get more millys (Guap)

Niggas talk shit, that's silly (Ha)

"Shawty, he ain't about that, really" (Nah)

"Is he?" (Ayy) Nigga, I'm illy! (Yeah)

Haha! (Haha!) Haha! (Hey)

(I don't wanna hear shit 'bout "I can't rap like this when I ain't good as that one"—nigga, fuck you, partner!)

Ayy, I run this city, clearly (Bankhead!)

Ayy, tell 'em, "Get lost, I'm busy" (Beat it! Yeah)

Really? (Yuh) Nigga, I'm illy (Ayy)

[Outro]

Yeah (It's the King, bitch!)