Luyện nghe bài hát No One's Iller

Yeah,yeah, Bizarre Kid at you
(Bang)
and Fuzz and Mr. Swifty

No one's than me
(Wha?)
No one, no one's than me
No iller than me
It's Mr. Swifty the 313

I make rappers wanna turn singers
I keep hoes they fingers
Bring this competition and this meanin'
Got whole crew doing subpoenas

Hell nah, you ain't seen a genius
Murder between us, pack your heaters
Keep it close, you beat us
While whole crew treat us like G's, you best believe this

I done made quadrapalegics outta these rejects
the whole world ejects your tape, it ain't no secret
That your shit sounds fake, you can't stop it my mind
it too late for cops in tryin' to stop the crime rate

I'm like Two-Face, I'm painful to rappers you can tell
From these shells, how I bend 'em like route canals
I erase all trails, farther from gettin' bail
Makes you wanna kill an emcee yourself, you as well

Be a 25 to life sentence, on linkin' trials
Horrified and on frontin', repentin' and lose they bowels
Everything is foul when around, vacate now
Niggas dumb enough to try to and escape, how?

I'm gonna take this 'gnac and drink it wild
Niggas fallin' in my face like milk crates
Swifty from the 313
Like I said no one is iller me

Me and and Mike, drivin' down Van Dyke
Get my dick late at night by a fuckin' transvestite
on probation for stranglin' my boy Jason
Should be takin' my medication, 9 to 10, I'm facin'

week this old man I had to blast
'Cuz he tried to me out when my car was out of gas
Ripped this old lady, hung her neck by a
Didn't realize it was my grandmother 'til I her pocketbook

Fuckin' with the white boys got me on crack
Better explain the hell your TVs and VCRs is at
I done lost 100 pounds, I ain't been eatin' I should
wounded dog in the street is sure lookin' good

Rob little boy in his fuckin' paper route
Throwin' bottles at day centers and yell, "Everybody get out"
My girl beat my ass and shot me in the back a 2-piece
'Cuz she found out I was havin' an affair with her old niece

No one, no one's iller me
It's Bizarre Kid from the 313
No one, no one's iller me
Bizarre Kid straight from the 313

Nobody better test me 'cuz I wanna get messy
Especially I step inside this bitch, dick freshly
New Lugz, give the hugs, guzzle two mugs
Before I do drugs make me throw up like flu bugs

True thugs, rugged messy scrubs
Whippin' 40-bottles like the fuckin' Pepsi
Down a fifth, open a six
I'm on my seventh 8-ball, now, I gotta a piss

I'm hollerin' at hoes that got boyfriends
Who gives a who they was
I'm always takin' else's girl like Cool J does
probably don't be packin' anyways, do they Fuzz?
We walked up, stomped they asses and blew buzz

Mics get sandblasted, stab abdomen
With a hand crafted pocketknife and spill your
Sprayed your motherfuckin' up when I ran past it
Fuckin' felon, to hell in a hand basket

shit will get you, your girl and your man blasted
Kidnapped and in a van wrapped in Saran plastic
Get your ass kicked, by these fantastic
four motherfuckers
Flashin' in front of your face without the Masters

Slim Shady, nobody iller than me

I run shit an ass with legs
Massive lead to leave your red
Similar to your ass in a casket
Drastic spread of heads

to abort you like a bastard egg
That you said got you standin' on plastic legs
Ask the feds past the edge
Rockin' the classic threads

bread, roll down the window
Bitch, you got fantastic legs
You can get 'til ass get red
You can get that ass get red

Bizarre, you get him and him, you get him and him
I'll get him and him, leave the other two for my nigga
Never writer's block, I writers
My tighter, ante up and get your top fighters

Got fired for the counter with a mop stick
bitch ran up screamin', "Get the cops, quick"
And got kicked, now she screamin', "Stop it"
Got clips to stop shit, rock shit and grab hot shit

Wherever you shop, bitch, Fuzz '97 crop pick
Sick, niggaz lookin' at me like I got tits
I shoot a rocket your optic
You niggaz still don't the top pick?

I got bricks, lose my in your ass
And have you socks, bitch
We rock shit, leave your knot split
the green from Al by showin' him hot grits
(No one)

Ain't iller than me

It's the Mr. from the 313
No one, no one's iller me
It's and Swift from the 313
No one, no iller than me
It's Fuzz and from the 313

You have now 4 ill emcees
the home of potholes and trash
We'll lyrically