[Intro: Uncle Howie] Glenwood motherfucking Projects! That was the fucking place, man. Fucking crack smoking all night, cooking it up, selling C4, weapons, blowguns, every motherfucking thing. What a fucking rush! We were cooking the shit up, and I smoked it up, and the Jamaicans man, they came back, fucking torched the place with me motherfuckingin it! I couldn't get out the fucking apartment, they locked me in, I had to go out the fucking window, it was fucking dynamite!
[Verse 1: ILL BILL] ILL BILL, lost sanity, lost humanity Lost in a maze of purple haze Cannabis sativa, spit ether violently Very vociferous, victorious Hotter than a crematorium, I'll kill all of you Kill your mother, fuck you, drop dead, faggot it's the dragon .44 Magnum splatter you in front of your family My firearms never be tired, up in the air Throw a bullet up in each eye, and one in your ear I speak heroin, breathe weed, sniff cocaine Tweaked levels when I peeped Courtney kill Cobain We got the whole world scratching their heads Our life is like a hijacked airliner but we managed to win Back to the crib, breaking up the cash and the brick Having a bitch flashing the tits while you crashing the whip Laughing at hoes taking facials in amateur flicks While the ILL BILL album's kidnapping your kids
[Chorus: ILL BILL] I put the D in the drugs and the G in the guns I put the D in the dubs and the T in the thugs I put the C in the 'caine and the P in the pain The G in the game Pop pop, three in your brain!
[Verse 2: Necro] I get impatient like a long bid Get so vexed I hit the wrong kid Shit gets awkward like I'm on a drug and I can't get off it Blank out, whip a shank out Treat you like Viet Cong Hit you like the weed in a bong Your pussy like a G-string and thong You think I'm sick? Fucked up? Oh am I? You think you can't die? Don't think you're crazy 'cause the year passed by Beat you down with my fucking hands tied Now change your attitude Before you get cracked from different latitudes By kids that are mad at you They expect gratitude, I'll strike a foe Even if you don't know me you better act like you know Especially if you're soft I've earned my stripes like Schwarzkopf The gun I bust off will tear through your clothes like a moth You're sloppy, cuz you start beef and then cop pleas But not me!
[Chorus: ILL BILL] I put the D in the drugs and the G in the guns I put the D in the dubs and the T in the thugs I put the C in the 'caine and the P in the pain The G in the game Pop pop, three in your brain!
[Verse 3: Goretex] I rock sickening raps like Woody Allen flares beach hats Or John Hinckley run up on politicians with ski caps Laser weapons, I bleed coke Happiness is like a warm gun Run in your crib slitting your G's throat Cruise the block whipping UZI's and pop Losing the cops, whether New Lots or zooming through Watts The newest space suit, love rocking titties like grapefruits Phase two, Rasta-ice inverted Jesus I'm up in Fatburger, Beck's and codeine So clean, pinstriped gat runners are OG's Serving the fiends crack, dope and weed Glenwood Projects, we living the American dream Screaming, “Hey pelican!" with trains of coke on my cock Handle bars like Vivica, with nipples and crotch We toured drive-bys on the Mongoose with Glocks This ain't rhetorical, the story gets worse, funny You get shot!
[Chorus: ILL BILL] I put the D in the drugs and the G in the guns I put the D in the dubs and the T in the thugs I put the C in the 'caine and the P in the pain The G in the game Pop pop, three in your brain!
Embed
About
Genius Annotation1 contributor
The song is a tribute to the Glenwood Houses, the low income housing development (located in Brooklyn, New York) where Ill Bill and its brother Necro grew up.
Expand
+9
1
Share
Q&A
Find answers to frequently asked questions about the song and explore its deeper meaning