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Ill Bill – L'Amour East lyrics
(Meyhem Lauren)
E Train, last car, 10 deep, left em drippin'
Blacking out, catching wreck, fly tags - peace to Griffen
Sneakers was Scottie Pippen, denim was probably Guess
I’ve been Laurenovich since then, rockin my Snow Beach vest
Dolo fresh ox on, Polo Bear socks on
Freak dancing in the backstreet with our Glocks on
Hard rocks, hammers and heaters, they kept the blocks warm
Daily objective, being gone before the cops swarm
Holdin' TECs never sex, we was not porn
Streets made us then they raised us, we are not born
Gang shit was on the rise, but most my clique was neutral
Don't get it fucked up nigga, why? Most my clique will shoot you
Blam blam, without beads or a bandana
Bullets will make your face blurry like a bad camera
Peace to Queens nigga, home of that fly shit
Cop killa central, you die quick, what up tho?
(Hook)
Latin Quarter to L’amour East, we all beasts
From across seas to cross Queens, we all creeps
CBGB's to L’amour east, we all beasts
Smoke PCP, kids got stabbed over graffiti beef
(Q-unique)
I took the 6 train to the Bronx for infinity lessons
With the rise of the crack rock had the vicinity stressin'
My zulu medallion over whatever we was wearin'
In the late 80’s we wasn’t born wild, we was made crazy
That movie Beat Street was so misleading
‘Cause some of the breakers I knew were stick up kids that leave you cold and bleeding
It wasn’t a happier time, New York was a fucking mess
Little yellow envelope stuffed with skunk and cess
Then I’m in the back of the B train with a four finger ring and a gold rope
Didn’t look like a rapper, I looked like somebody that sold dope
And maybe I did cause back home was no hope
But maybe because Rakim said he was no joke
And I wanted to be just like the god
Excelling my skill level, plus life was hard
Dog it was more realer back then, you would either deal or rap
The industry snatched from Brooklyn, I steal it back
[Hook] x 2
(Ill Bill)
Double L train Canarsie, fit tags, drippy markers
Albee Square, colloseum, 50 deep in king’s plaza
Flat leavers, crack slingers, cap peelers, rap singers
Blasted Desert Eagles, turning tracks forever ether
While the war planes scatter nukes
__ splatter goons
Sauteed magic shrooms, more strange antics soon
Blasting Paid in full, Dog Day Afternoon
Had to pay my dues, fought James after school
I snuffed John Hayes in front of Captain Video
Next to the Arch Diner, Joey Haskall was with me too
That was before the gunplay and dapper dan jackets
Bootleg Timbaland leathers and automatic ratchets
Before Artie ___ blew his face off
Playin russian roulette after he vacuumed up a 8-ball
From childhood to manhood in King’s County
From my hood to yours we represent it proudly
Represent New York, represent Rowdy
Represent my whole crew, represent Howie
(Hook)
E Train, last car, 10 deep, left em drippin'
Blacking out, catching wreck, fly tags - peace to Griffen
Sneakers was Scottie Pippen, denim was probably Guess
I’ve been Laurenovich since then, rockin my Snow Beach vest
Dolo fresh ox on, Polo Bear socks on
Freak dancing in the backstreet with our Glocks on
Hard rocks, hammers and heaters, they kept the blocks warm
Daily objective, being gone before the cops swarm
Holdin' TECs never sex, we was not porn
Streets made us then they raised us, we are not born
Gang shit was on the rise, but most my clique was neutral
Don't get it fucked up nigga, why? Most my clique will shoot you
Blam blam, without beads or a bandana
Bullets will make your face blurry like a bad camera
Peace to Queens nigga, home of that fly shit
Cop killa central, you die quick, what up tho?
(Hook)
Latin Quarter to L’amour East, we all beasts
From across seas to cross Queens, we all creeps
CBGB's to L’amour east, we all beasts
Smoke PCP, kids got stabbed over graffiti beef
(Q-unique)
I took the 6 train to the Bronx for infinity lessons
With the rise of the crack rock had the vicinity stressin'
My zulu medallion over whatever we was wearin'
In the late 80’s we wasn’t born wild, we was made crazy
That movie Beat Street was so misleading
‘Cause some of the breakers I knew were stick up kids that leave you cold and bleeding
It wasn’t a happier time, New York was a fucking mess
Little yellow envelope stuffed with skunk and cess
Then I’m in the back of the B train with a four finger ring and a gold rope
Didn’t look like a rapper, I looked like somebody that sold dope
And maybe I did cause back home was no hope
But maybe because Rakim said he was no joke
And I wanted to be just like the god
Excelling my skill level, plus life was hard
Dog it was more realer back then, you would either deal or rap
The industry snatched from Brooklyn, I steal it back
[Hook] x 2
(Ill Bill)
Double L train Canarsie, fit tags, drippy markers
Albee Square, colloseum, 50 deep in king’s plaza
Flat leavers, crack slingers, cap peelers, rap singers
Blasted Desert Eagles, turning tracks forever ether
While the war planes scatter nukes
__ splatter goons
Sauteed magic shrooms, more strange antics soon
Blasting Paid in full, Dog Day Afternoon
Had to pay my dues, fought James after school
I snuffed John Hayes in front of Captain Video
Next to the Arch Diner, Joey Haskall was with me too
That was before the gunplay and dapper dan jackets
Bootleg Timbaland leathers and automatic ratchets
Before Artie ___ blew his face off
Playin russian roulette after he vacuumed up a 8-ball
From childhood to manhood in King’s County
From my hood to yours we represent it proudly
Represent New York, represent Rowdy
Represent my whole crew, represent Howie
(Hook)
Lyrics taken from
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