[Hook 1: Real Prophecy]
These n***as are hatin' cuz even they b**hes sayin' I spit well
(I'm Ill) None of my true fans tell me to get well
Put my CD in stores, will it sell?
(I'm Ill)
These n***as are hatin' cuz even they b**hes sayin' I spit well
(I'm Ill) None of my true fans tell me to get well
Put my CD in stores, will it sell?
(I'm Ill) None of my true fans tell me to get well
[Verse 1: Real Prophecy]
Yo I don't give a mother f' u' c' k'
Cuz C-Jay don't give a f** what he or she say
I'm iller than ill, sicker than sick
A female photographer couldn't even picture this dick
It's ridiculous, why? cuz my dick you lust
How did it taste? Cum oozing down the side of your face
Give me a break, the only way that I could take five
Is if I jack nickels, you Jack Nicholson, joker I'm an ace
I'll annihilate, try and violate dying wide awake
Find the time or place for rhyming, my mind is in outer space
You whack rappin'? I'm the master of a rapper
See him, give him 666 back lashings
Mark of the beast, scriptures of leviathan
If you don't abide by the bible, be quiet then
Always got his hoes wit him, I heard he's a fireman
Emcee for life, never reach an retirement so try again
[Hook 2: Real Prophecy]
These n***as are hatin' cuz even they b**hes sayin' I spit well
(I'm Ill) None of my true fans tell me to get well
Put my CD in stores, will it sell?
(I'm Ill)
These n***as are hatin' cuz even they b**hes sayin' I spit well
(I'm Ill) None of my true fans tell me to get well
Put my CD in stores, will it sell?
(I'm Ill) None of my true fans tell me to get well
[Verse 2: Real Prophecy]
Now that I'm on the rise, all of a sudden we the best of homies
But I'm the type to show love if you gets to know me
I used to forcibly take the respect you owe me
(Haaa) this n***a vex, reachin' like he got a tech to show me
Like it's my fault your b**h wanna have s** and blow me
Your ex is Nosey and now she's bout to Eskimo me
Right above the nostril
Bumpin' DMX that Ruff Rider love is hostile
Love Sustains but hate expresses dominance
Rappers don't have a lot of sense, I'm the prophecy so I'm the future
Read the messages God has sent, this is astonishing
Since you are aware of this knowledge then you are cognizant
Bet you the type to downplay
Respected and viewed for giving credit where credit is due
Wanna leave hell but right now I can't be in heaven
Fans I shouldn't have to die for you to rank me a legend
I'm sayin'
[Hook 3: Real Prophecy]
These n***as are hatin' cuz even they b**hes sayin' I spit well
(I'm Ill) None of my true fans tell me to get well
Put my CD in stores, will it sell?
(I'm Ill)
These n***as are hatin' cuz even they b**hes sayin' I spit well
(I'm Ill) None of my true fans tell me to get well
Put my CD in stores, will it sell?
(I'm Ill) None of my true fans tell me to get well
[Verse 3: Real Prophecy]
I hold it down for my peeps Untouchable Syllabalistic
Shout outs to my n***a Pat for makin' this beat
Reppin' Jamaica, Broward County is where I reside
I'm occupied, me and Noex is trynna keep Hip Hop alive
Zen Eleven ridin' wit us, old school to these modern n***as
God forgive us, we only trynna bring change to maintain
In this dirty game, as a student acting foolish
Going back to school for music, research the data of rap acoustics
And co*ky is something I don't know how to be
But I put the ill in Iliad and Odd in the Odyssey
Ha I gotta be trippin', I'm different, guess I'm a man now
Don't need a handout, outstanding I stand out
f** Swag, Steelo replace it in your vocab
(Steeeez) Now how you like the sound of that
Rewind it back, I'm ill, I'll tell you the same if you remind me
Naw, I'm sick cuz ill is for Illuminati
[Hook 4: Real Prophecy]
These n***as are hatin' cuz even they b**hes sayin' I spit well
(I'm Ill) None of my true fans tell me to get well
Put my CD in stores, will it sell?
(I'm Ill)
These n***as are hatin' cuz even they b**hes sayin' I spit well
(I'm Ill) None of my true fans tell me to get well
Put my CD in stores, will it sell?
(I'm Ill) None of my true fans tell me to get well