Music Video

10. Funkmaster Flex & Big Kap Featuring LL Cool J - Ill Bomb (feat. LL Cool J)
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Featured In

Credits

PERFORMING ARTISTS
Funk Flex
Funk Flex
Performer
Big Kap
Big Kap
Performer
COMPOSITION & LYRICS
Allie Wrubel
Allie Wrubel
Composer
Herbert Magidson
Herbert Magidson
Composer
James Todd Smith
James Todd Smith
Composer
G. Spivey
G. Spivey
Composer
PRODUCTION & ENGINEERING
DJ Scratch
DJ Scratch
Producer
Carlisle Young
Carlisle Young
Recording Engineer
Mark Mitchell
Mark Mitchell
Recording Engineer
Ken "Supa Engineer" Duro
Ken "Supa Engineer" Duro
Mixing Engineer

Lyrics

Pimp shit, uh Uh, pimp shit Yeah, turn my shit up a little bit My vocals, uh, uh I hypnotize ya eyez and then you recognize That the sparkles of my chrome shoes paralyze Gettin' money like this, people want my vibe Full of jealousy and pride, hate the way I ride Sometimes ya speak, sometimes ya don't Figure this nigga souped up, cause he couped up Guaranteed to rip shit, soon as its louped up Ya niggas slept, twenty girls panties wasn't wet I'm a star, double the dick, the double are Never score hard to leave the bubble scarred Not the car, it's the man, daddy cool put it down No comparin' me to ya'll, nigga is such a clowns L.A. worth paper, ask Russell Simmons who put 'em up in that skyscraper Ask my dogs up at Fubu, who made them major LL nigga, now who's next that need a favor Drop a bomb on 'em Remain calm on 'em Peirce the nipples, throw the LL charm on 'em Keep gangsta shit pumpin' through my system When my strobe lights flash you can't miss' em, listen Call my name, ooh Call my name, uhh Call my name, aw yeah Call my name 59th street bridge up a roadway, do about a buck Pumpin' Mobb up in the Cadillac truck, don't give a fuck Gold tint, goldiggen broads getting bent We can fuck, but you ain't gettin' ten cent, Who want it? Lay the facts out until the cats out Set 'cha back out, sweat 'cha tracks out, blow out your weed You wake up in the mornin' to a note, "n- had to leave" Be easy, you shoulda teased me, instead of bein sleazy I wouldn't do a threezy, come across more floss than gold teeth I learned you can't eat, if ya hold beef, with niggas underneath Still I'm a lyrically hold it down L back in town, 'case the bell sound for second round Some of these old cats is funny, fuck who's legendary I'm tryin to get this money Drop a bomb on 'em, and pour a dom on 'em As soon as the track come on, I transform on 'em Keep gangsta shit pumpin' through my system Strobe lights flashin' can't miss' em Listen Call my name, ooh Call my name, uhh Call my name, aw yeah Call my name Rappers don't really want it, they might claim they do They know I'm catchin' bodies, go 'head name a few After I blaze you, I get a doughnut Don't want no blood up on my chrome shoes Lord have mercy, this rookies got it confused You thought you caught me slippin', I was falsely accused Sleepin' with my eyez wide shut, like Tom Cruise They wishin' an impossible mission to see me lose Lay up time to choose, all I hate is on the left You hopin' and prayin' you get to hear me take my last breath Lyrically, but I gang bang the track, chop sling like Cracker Hundred keys a month, you fuckin up G backs nigga Invincible, unstoppable ya'll niggas ain't ill your illogicale This is L, the pigeon thriller, dream fulfiller A little somethin for ya ice guerillas Drop a bomb on 'em When its time to attack Quiet Storm on 'em Hold ya nuts and keep ya palms on 'em Keep gangsta shit pumpin' through my system When my strobe lights flash you can't miss' em Listen Call my name, ooh Call my name, uhh Call my name, aw yeah Call my name
Writer(s): W. Rubel, Herbert Magidson, George Spivey, James Todd Smith Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
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