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Ill-Literatesmp3.com/Ill_Literates

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    "Ice grillz and 20 inch wheelz"  Parental Advisorygenre: Hip Hop
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    Dirty 3rd ish
    CD: After Birth   Label: Split Endz Productions
    Credits: Emcee's: Ro-Bust, DVD, Mike Skillz, Beowolf Produced by Beowolf

    Story Behind the Song
    This is a song we did to make a statement about the condition that commercial music is in these days. With southern rap gettin' major play on the airwaves, talkin' all that bling bling, we figured we'd put our two cents in on what we think about this state of affairs. A little sarcastic but true...

    Lyrics
    chorus :
    aint no point to this song/
    just some braggadocious shit/
    lyrics like toilet paper/
    you could wipe ya ass with/
    think you reinvent the wheel/
    everytime you bite hits/
    every other word is fuck bitch nigga suck dick/
    still no point to this song/
    it dont even make sense/
    like we talkin' 'bout the future/
    but we usin' past tense/
    vanity spills ice grills, candy paint on 20 inch/
    proves hip hop today/ lacks heart and substance

    Beowolf:
    bling bling, panky rangs, Concord airplanes/
    boots got platinum rope chain shoelaces/
    got my stretch hummer takin' up five spaces/
    ya'll stacking chips, we stackin' gold bricks/ look like biggie smalls, chick lickin' on my balls/ doggy style on marble tiles/ gold inlaid walls, waterfalls/ eat cheerios out waterford...crystal bowls/ bitches sippin cris out stilletos/ all this, but we still rep ghetto in the booth/ with iced tooth/ no couth and no shame/ we play a dangerous game/ in the name of fortune and fame/ ask Big L, ask Tupac/ or anyone slain who ain't sittin' on tha block no more/ the stress no less manifests/ walkin' out tha door without a bulletproof vest.

    DVD:
    now let me say some shit that'll prolly get me sued/ or make up dumb words that you wanna spew/ my shodie, my wodie, dirty done heard me/ don't let me forget the fuckin' aye ya ya/ fo shizzle my nizzle never go bye bye bye/ if it'll get me platinum links i'll say some shit that stinks/ cuz a mother fuck aint nuthin' if he dont bling bling/ check out my 89 karat iced ring/ who cares if i cant wear it cuz it'll get me robbed/ it gets me video hoes that wanna suck on my knob/ but i meant to say dick cuz i'm a hardcore thug/ dont believe me i'll buy a gun/ and shoot up the club/ cristal and hennessey fill up my cup/ all my money gone for cribs number one spot/ and when this thing airs/ i'll prolly get shot/ another dead rapper infamous/ so then maybe NOT.

    Ro-Bust:
    absurd and extravagent/ rock nothing less than hand craftsmanship/ i import mattresses and fill em with foreign actresses/ who give head outta habit/ special guest appearances on practically/ every fuckin' remix/ i got residence in three different beach front prefix/ maintain the status quo/ vanity plates book end/ my peanut butta color roles/ call me the gem cutta/ cuz my cock ring got diamond studs when i fuck her/ so what if my lyrics suffer/ i'm the epitemy of young and rich/ must of lost my integrity somewhere in the mix.

    Mike Skillz:
    Yea we got no label like sacks of weed/ we that grade A shit/ no stims or seeds/ my crew rolls thick like a philly b-zunt/ ya'll punks are pinners/ no wait ya'll cunts/ shit out your hole/ is all you'll explode/ take cover now while i take control/ i'll rig the poles/ like Bush on patrol/ billboard charts read Ill-Lits uno/ down the funk side is the path that i walk/ my mics gripped in my right/ the left one on my cock/ i'm that silly emcee/ with them big saggy jeans/ i just need that extra room so that my dick can breathe/ i strut across the stage watchin' bitches collapse/ i pull down my pants and mouth fuck you with my ass/ your fade away jump shots will all get blocked/ you'll retire from the game/ while i'm up on top.

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