Songtexte: Othorized F.A.M.. Other. Too Ill (Remix).

(feat. King Just, Leatha Face, Polite, Profes)

[Chorus]
[Cappadonna] "Too Ill, I represent Park Hill"
[Streetlife] "Killah Hill District"
[Inspectah Deck] "Killah Killah Hill"

[Polite]
Yo where I come from, you coward niggaz are scared to come
Where my dogs blast guns that'll leave yo' ass numb
Live niggaz move silent, come recognize 'em
Yo, you don't bust, yo toss 'em off the Verrazano, nigga fuck 'em
Stakes is higher, never trust a fuckin liar
Send him to his moms tied up in barbed wire
You fuckin bastard, everything we spit is hazard
Master this rap shit, another Killah Hill classic
Nuclear weapon, come on, we gotta hear the recipe
Hit you with the same slug that killed Kennedy
We do this for the Hell of it and my wolves ain't smellin it
Killah Hill nigga, all that bullshit's irrellevant

[Profes]
Killah Hill smacks flames out you, speak fire
And deep fry you if you want beef like Meyers
Smash you like car tires, shoes stars buyers
Playin us close, shouldn't have jumped off the wires
Y'all rappers is a bunch of faggots, tellin war stories
If you're a real live warrior for two full moon halice
Creap through like Wallace, you ain't the wildest
Son you're feminine like hair stylists
Staten Island, slugs tear through ya palace
Packed guns have you in Wonderland like Alice
Any nigga step to Profes get embarrased
My wolves let 'em have it, Lounge Lo mackin his carriage

[Chorus x4]

[Lounge Mode]
Yo, you fake fucks duckin the ratchet, we see the big hole
That cannon ball type, let's fight to make ya wig blow
Though Wiggs knows I'm still Loungin at the Ooh
One crew, Baby Vern, Clocka Dot and Boy Blue
But still, I'm Too Ill I represent Park Hill
Swear them niggaz like to spark but in the dark they kill
It's on, you know the style, word bond, you know we wild
Perform on the song, I brought along some extra arms
It be the work of the slang spit with WP
And Cream Team, the O.T.F. is in me
The elevator shaft BlackOut! Leatha Face take the Mac out
Polite get 'em, L.G.P. count the stack out
We bounce out the back door and smack son
Clap him with the four, make sure you push back dunn
Cuz where I'm from my niggaz don't play
And by the way my niggaz won't say
who spit ten in the gun blaze

[King Just]
Eh-yo I came from the place with perfect MC's
The best weed rollers when it came to the trees
The baddest hustlers to the worst car thieves
When delf breathed first, jumped out, the wrong keys
Since the Paris Crew and Avenue had me
I was rappin in beast, had my name in the streets
Killah Hill-a, was all in Park Villa
If we didn't stay in town and you wasn't down nigga
How you figure they gon' make a Hill track
And don't put K.J. back on the map?
He's back! It's gon' take a nation to hold us
Just as highly to score 10304 and King Just

[Leatha Face]
We ain't came from under the stairs, when facin peers
It's a rare scene similar to the bloody version of Shakespeare
Trap snakes in a snare, precussion flares
My function here is the discuss to strength, don't talk
Spray sidewalks, yap him, cut his hair
Why your jaws higher than the law?
Ya force spit by the scorpion's Tai
Scorched ya flame torch, train of thought blazed off
Mock waterized, FAM Othorized, flame off the side
Die by the scorpion's eyes
Pull the five, acquire the metal, get side of logic
We deposit flame generators, from Clifton Projects
Heart of darkness, frame twisted in the figure eight position
Engrave an incision on ya face big as the state of Michigan

[Chorus x5]

[Chorus x4: Cappa only]