What I Know

<a href="http://music.illcity.com/track/what-i-know">What I Know by Ill City</a>

Hook
What I know is what I’ve found
And what I’ve found gone hold me down
What I know is what I’ve seen
And what I seen ain’t stopping me
(Repeat)

Verse One
I really wish I was from Compton or Inglewood
Then I could tell some big stories about my dangerous hood
But I ain’t never gang bang with the red or blue
So if I spit the same thing, then it’s so untrue
Maybe still, I could rep off the LBC
Say Snoop was my cousin, Nate Dogg was my peeps
Say my boy run the spot where they both buy weed
Where Big Coop got shot by those crooked police
But you see, I just heard that off MTV
And even if it was true – it still wouldn’t be me
Just being on the block that don’t make you the trigger man
In fact you just another broke – man
You so gansta – yeah, how you figure man?
Only thing you popping is them bottles from the liquor man
I checked backgrounds leave you in a pickle man
Thug to hustla – come on, you so fickle man

Verse Two
I really wish I was from Brooklyn or even the Long Island
Tell big stories how the block stay wildin’
But I never flipped bricks, I never pushed blow
But I’m true to myself so I spit what I know
And last time I checked, struggle ain’t have a zip code
And last time I checked, trouble ain’t have to tip toe
It finds it’s way to Park Place and hey
Watch your step, it just might find you today
And stop yelling you a hustla to these A&Rs
Most real hustlas can’t even spit two bars
They buy rap music to bump in they cars
You try to get by on rap music to buy you a car
There’s a couple of exceptions but you ain’t one
So you fight with perception, and you tote your gun
But there’s power in the truth, you better get you some
But if you don’t have a story, then I guess you’re done (yeah)

Verse Three
I really wish I was from overseas, maybe Japan
Then it wouldn’t matter if I pushed a silver sedan
Yeah, with no frame of reference, you’d make up your own mind
Instead of hating on your on kind
See here’s the problem – young black kid from the burbs
Got a flow so sick that it’s almost a curse
And ya’ll don’t know the whole story, y’all just see the finish
But if I tell it like I know it, it don’t seem authentic
So easy to talk about guns and drugs
Slums and thugs, but that’s not how it was
Me? Only thing I ever really did was chase hoes
Bang on my laptop, trying to get pesos
And that don’t really sound that grand or sexy
But I’m still out grinding, you can page or text me
And oh I’m from a place called hot AZ
Or better yet, I’m from America – you can’t stop me (yeah)


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