Album: House Rules (2014)Illmind Interlude[Crooked I:]
Mmm, I don't even know what to say man
I'ma... I'ma go Miles Davis, a lot of improvisation man
I'ma let the music talk to me, I'ma talk back though
Let my words bounce off the bassline
Bounce back to my thought process, I mean I'm just
I'm just tryin to uhh, keep up with Illmind right now
Yo Just man, you could delete all this shit
I'm just warmin it up for my brothers right now
My three brothers, House Gang for life, woooo
[Crooked I:]
If you can't stand the heat, better creep out the kitchen
This music's so therapeutic, it could be our religion
If I am my own problem, then I am my own solution
We buildin a +Glass House+ so you can see how we livin
Hold up, turn the beat down and listen
I was predicted to be convicted, catchin them beatdowns in prison
by prison guards cause fuck, authority figures minority niggaz be livin hard
Tell me how to see out your vision, when you limit ours
You'll only wanna see in the struggle
But I got (bands in my duffle, band-bands in my duffle)
Yeah, you can ask the Slaughters, I don't mess with you rappers
Matter of fact our third album is a message to rappers!
My nigga we let you breathe - now all of them accolades from ratchet bitches
and faggots in this rappin business is over, it's back to the business
of gangsta rappin that I'm mixin with this backpack, spittin
with a Rat Pack clique of niggaz, you best believe
You pussy, period, I bet you bleed
A fake nigga that listen to snakes nigga, I bet you Eve
Meanwhile I'm on my +Django+ with my field niggaz
+12 Years a Slave+, this industry tryna kill niggaz
Even if they noose me, I die hangin with some real niggaz
And all my nephews are in my +Will+ like Uncle Phil, nigga!
I'm really cocky - but that's on the low
like Makaveli's intro when it sound like somebody said "Suge shot me"
[Joell Ortiz:]
I shot the shit with the niggaz who shot shit up, welcome to my hood papi
Where every night's a movie, but never a good copy
I sat on granny couch, amped about what I'm ramblin 'bout
When the amp blew out I made beats with my hands and mouth, the man of the house
so early, little odd though with the curly, blow out runnin behind the girlys
My nigga Jigs nicknamed me a dopeboy, I do miss him so derrly
Just Blaze, I just blazed one up
Boy I'm headed to mobile Monday, I hope yo' .45's ain't dirty
Don't need them bitches skippin, I know I'm skippin around but fuck it
Cause I could still bust it with random thoughts, you gotta love it
Ay Crook you my brother, Royce you my brother, Joe you my brother
Four different fathers, four different mothers
But raised by the culture, bet we was hangin the same poster
Starin at Lil' Kim with her legs open
Rewindin the Nas verse, blastin some Hov'
Dancin to Biggie, trippin off Canibus flow
Don't act like Cano wasn't a savage, you know
But back to my squad, everyone rappin is pro
Yeah Marshall Mathers my bro, hey Catfish it's a go
The magic of 2.0 just gettin started
I'm confused because this healthy mindset made our album retarded
I'm just playin with words, yeah they pay me for that
The stages of rap, ask these promoters, these places is packed
Just killin time 'til that album drop
Slow it down, I dissed you, I said it's killin time when that album drop
