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]