Large Professor - It's Us lyrics

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Large Professor - It's Us lyrics

[Hook x4] It's the N-O-N, P, H, I, X, I-O-N [Ill Bill] What does that spell? It spell Non Phixion my friend The Future Is Now, nuclear shower y'all powerball I devour all, buildings collapse, towers fall k**ers with gats, millions of carnivores start the war I shoot rocket launchers riding on dinosaurs Flying saucers meet the Bible's author Reveal alien tribal culture Who designed our DNA structure? Genetic functions will be made in a laboratory of God's construction Now bust the combustion Big Bang Gangbangers that spit slang Be the truth, not that King James version they teach in schools Jesus knew, he was thugged out too A bugged out dude, a loose cannon In my future we use Magnums, bombs and explosions I spit like Muhammed to Moses Ganja smokin', thoughts in constant motion, my mind is ferocious I spit for gangstas and maniacs that defy prognosis It's Ill Bill, my reality's my psychosis [Hook x4] [Goretex] What does that spell? It spells Non Phixion my friend A brave new world, that's safe for all gods and men Bars of phlegm so therapeutic it's part of the end The way I spit pain it's hard to pretend, hardly depends Sticking up delis for quick chips and starving again Our marketing plans guarantee I'll be parking a Benz My words are like carcinogens, we be starting the trends I sharpen the edge with sixteen bars to defend The arm, leg, leg, arm, head God is haShem Non Phixion extra-terrestrials, Martians with Tims Smart as the dead, we at war with the Narcs and the Feds Uncle Howie sparkin' the stem with the positive grin Napalm shots, Israeli camo, ammo with the car bomb I don't exist, close the garage and leave the car on Amen, suicide watch, and state pen Street trilogy, one love, I'll see you again [Hook x4] [Sabac Red] What does that spell? It spells Non Phixion my friend These predicaments got me thinking of spitting again Lived a thousand lives, died a thousand d**hs Been on house arrest Lost control, tortured soul depressed Watch how foul it gets Suicidal thoughts, wrists slit, it's overdose Wigs split, mixed with coke, fix the rope, I'm comatose Eyes bulging, mind swollen, my spirit left the physical Burning skin, return again, redeem the breath of miracles We're born suspects, we love p**n s** The drug Ex make the thugs get wild and bust sets Like a gangsta, our music stimulates your brain Make you wanna bang, some start to create change I'm hard to breathe, just before the gods and the thieves If we want peace then why is it so hard to achieve? I believe in us, while you f*ggots sleep on the gods Uncle Howie, Non Phixion b**h, we beating the odds [Hook x4]