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    Kenny "dope" Gonzalez / Lyrics

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    "Ill Street Blues" Lyrics

    Kenny "dope" Gonzalez feat. Kool G Rap

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    Aw yeah word up word to mother. Here comes G. Rap with another one why'all.
    We going to swing it like this...
    I'm right in front of my front steps thinking of a plan
    Looking like Raggedy Ann no dough in hand kicking a can
    Thinking of a plot to pull some bank in
    Because I'm dead and stinking
    Soles on my shoes winking t shirt is shrinking
    Soon I see some ties and my eyes open wide quick
    Who's that with you, chick? Bill Blass my sidekick
    What's up, black? Give his hand a smack
    Up pulls a Cadillac, yo baby we'll be back
    Jumped right on inside, not too many people saw us
    Thinking about who gotta get robbed because the mob got a job for us
    The drove us down to the sober section
    Of town where the clowns don't be paying for protection
    The want us to send a message to Jimmy the bartender
    Lend a friend the money next you're ripping off his car fenders
    He's coming up short cause he snorts
    Coke, dope, nope, and hope he don't get caught
    He owes some Benjamin Franklins, every last bit of em
    But Jimmy's pockets are empty, so now we gotta get rid of him
    But Jimmy's wife is with him and they don't want to involve her
    Hopped out the back seat they gave me a revolver
    Blass, you distract him while I go and whack him
    Entered through the back side of the bar and then attacked him
    He's screaming for his life, reaching for his wife
    Shot him in the back of the head and shanked him with a knife
    And that goes for anybody who's gotta pay they dues
    You lose, cause I got the Ill Street Blues

    You lose, cause I got the Ill Street Blues (repeat 4x)
    Suckers I clobber, because my town is full of cops and robbers
    You're not promised tomorrow in this Little Shop of Horrors
    So I got to get with the business of hit quick
    Moneygrip's pocket's looking thick so I stick Slick
    Hold it right here, hands in the air, I know you got the loot
    Or better yet, face down on the ground, empty your pockets troop
    Hit the deck I got the Tech right on your neck
    And I expect to make a buck to heck with a traveller's check
    But if a vic' tries to choke me
    I'll have to smoke him like I'm Smokey the Bear, so okie dokie
    Goodbye, or bon voyage, have a good journey
    Don't even try begging for your life, that don't concern me
    So to the next weasel that freezes
    Your begging and your pleases only getting your closer to meeting Jesus
    Yeah, I shake a schmuck just to make a buck
    Then I break a duck and if the duck gotta get bucked then I don't give a fuck
    Hyper as a sniper piping niggas like a plumber
    Cold vicking and sticking up the ones that run the numbers
    Or even a bigger score, the lady in the liquor store
    Go inside and kick in the door, pull her then I'm stickin her for
    Money or your life, honey hurry and choose
    You lose, because I got the Ill Street Blues


    Extra extra read all about it in the papers
    The boss tried to rape us, so we tossed him off the skyscraper
    Because he pulled some other people to try and hit us
    Get us, but none of them did us, he must be trying to kid us
    But that's dead, I'll thank God in the red, 'cross the bread borders
    So nobody can short us, he fled down to headquarters
    Ready to put some work in, we're not a lazy crew, we'll do a job or two
    But yo, the man can't even stick me with some Crazy Glue
    Ready to tore him even more because she saw him
    We took out all the lookouts in the front and kicked his door in
    What's up snake, why'd you violate?
    Because I'm a hossa (What's that?)
    Yo, that's a pig that don't fly straight
    Getting ready to jab him, I grabbed him by the necktie
    Homie tried to get fly, and swing I gave him a decked eye
    You know the evil that men do, hell is where the men go
    We snatched him by his hands and feet and threw him out the window
    Up, up, and away cause I don't play, clown
    Buck, buck, buck, take that with you on the way down
    I'm hoping you got springs and wings on your shoes
    But you lose, because I got the Ill Street Blues

    This song was submitted on October 18th, 2016.
    Copyright with Lyrics © Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC.
    Written by Allen Toussaint, Nathaniel Thomas Wilson.
    Lyrics licensed by LyricFind.

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