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  • Informações do Álbum Illadelph Halflife
    1. Intro
    2. Respond/React
    3. Section
    4. Panic!!!!!!
    5. It Just Don't Stop
    6. Episodes
    7. Push Up Ya Lighter
    8. What They Do
    9. ? Vs. Scratch (The Token DJ Cut)
    10. Concerto O the Desperado
    11. Clones
    12. Universe at War
    13. No Alibi
    14. Dave Vs. Us
    15. No Great Pretender
    16. The Hypnotic
    17. Ital (The Universal Side)
    18. One Shine
    19. The Adventures in Wonderland
    20. Outro

    Ver discografia completa »

    Yeah, to all the Jim Carrey ass large co-op
    KnowhatI'msayin? Large co-op, what the fuck?
    To the clones, we bless the domes
    Blow the vial, you know my style, large co-op
    Freestyle all the way son

    Verse One: M.A.R.S.

    First of all let's talk about these ill capers
    And fly ass frontin bitches that now caught vapors
    Niggaz run up on you with guns, snatchin papers
    Outlined body chalk, is how they would scrape ya
    From off the pavement, I hate gettin locked up
    cause that upstate bus reminds me of the slave ships
    But then the bible never saved shit
    I guess that's why every juvenile is in the same predicament
    You wanna slang crack, or hold tecs, and do the concept
    You can't make loot, when your moms is smokin up the product
    I try to tell ya, don't let these streets fuckin fail ya
    The way niggaz be gettin clapped shit'll fuckin scare ya
    But in the dark, we ran wild, so we killin em
    Niggaz scared, can't stand still, like fuckin helium
    Fake niggaz, they don't go platinum they go aluminum
    Got em cloned the fuck up son, that's why we losin em
    I'm lookin at this niggaz longevity
    To make a big play, but then it might be a mistake
    Cuz if I get sent to D.C., I'm sendin Dice to DE
    With three p's, so when I get out, he can see me
    for real, cuz the streets is filled with snakes and rats
    The snake will be that bitch and that rat will be that cool cat
    With swollen pockets we gonna take you back home
    Master Allah Rule Savior, never clone

    Verse Two: Black Thought

    Yo, I use the mic to slap you in the face and erase your taste
    Disgrace your date put your title to waste
    Dominant lyrical grace, from a place called wild
    Illadelph Isle Pensy, that's the residency
    Consist in currency, my pockets never empty
    Some cats, believe they MC but we know they all fraud
    Do a show in Philly niggaz wouldn't applaud
    Nobody know your record nor who you openin for
    Can tell your squad's artificial while approachin the door
    So you should prepare, for lyrical terror that's pure
    Step up to the resevoir, of the soul proprietor style
    messiah or, the higher law down with Dice Raw
    The matador, shorty conniseur
    Stompin whatever you build to the floor
    Similar to that of a dinosaur
    I told you I'm the rap predator
    You insist to imitate, what for?
    Superstar niggaz is ten percent real, ninety percent invented
    for a fuckin record deal
    Comin with somethin veterans can't feel
    I hit you like a steel anvil
    Because you grafted off the next man's skill
    But still I remain mellow, seein the theatrics of Othello
    Run over tactics of the
    C-L-O/N-E-S fess
    The phoniest cats is felonious (word)

    Verse Three: Dice Raw

    Dice Raw the juvenile lyricist corner store terrorist
    Block trooper, conniseur of fine cannabis
    Focus never weak, blow up the spot like plastique
    Leave a nigga shook, to the point, he won't speak
    Never half-assed, always live and direct
    On bitches try to punk smell the panty and raw sex
    Mad lights I had to black out, when fake niggaz act out
    Or step out of place, they get slapped in they face
    All y'all niggaz is fake, tryin to emulate my style
    what grown man? In this game, to me you're a child
    I trained wack MC's, in camps like ex-marines
    Why the fuck you think you went home and had bad dreams
    of horrifying things, that your ass never seen before?
    You traveled to the realm of Dice Raw
    where CLONES get they dome blown with chrome microphones
    It's not your fault black, just the fact you wasn't shown
    You'll come through this like a smurf
    I got you rollin stop off the earth
    Represent while I been like this since birth
    And I won't be the last but I DEFINITELY was the first
    Dice Raw big car Logan's Isle sol-dier

    Verse Four: Malik B

    Don't come across that line or pay a cost
    Knuckle games and hammer cocked ain't nothing sweet or soft
    Win lose or draw to the jaw take one
    Deranger lyrical launcher, or station
    No conversation is needed, my task completed
    Read a nigga up and down in the cut where I'm seated
    Snatch you from your cloud of cannabis you ignoramuses
    You laid on your lap, when I attack your glamorous
    lifestyle, I banged your head up with the white fowl
    My character a product of this two-one-fifth trife style
    I breeze through areas niggaz would fear to walk in
    Balance the talkin, that galactic style as of a falcon
    Your Star Trek ass will wrinkle
    Spill these words and form into a sprinkle
    cap you're brought up and the name of twinkle
    My insight will crack the windpipe of y'all niggaz
    Whether small, middle-sized, or tall niggaz
    Just tie your name next when I start to X
    Givin out flex pains of death so fuck a raincheck
    The insane vet, whether you ganked the brain wet
    You proceed to lame check, the opposite of same sex
    I annihliate your type if you violate
    Makin your blood rush, you post never a higher rate

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