Large Professor I Jus Wanna Chill Lyrics

I Jus Wanna Chill lyrics

We gonna rock a little something like this" -- Repeat 4x)

I don't wanna ill, I just wanna chill
And keep my hand around a 100 dollar bill (Repeat 4x)

Sitting and thinking about the time I wrote four stacks of rhymes
For dimes, made me wanna go back to doing crimes
On the corner, but the street life? Hotter than a sauna
So I don't think I'm gonna, plus the fact I was born to
Nigga to hit the land with the mic in hand and
SP and hit it like (huh) Dizzy Gillespe
And this is how I do, not three or two
But one nigga from Queens for the hip-hop fiends
All over, gas a honey up to let me unclothe her
And this time around check how I get down
As I go the extra mile, raised in Carlyle
Born up in Harlem, ever since been destined for stardem
So move over bacon, it's the anti-faking
Beatmaking nigga that makes the Earth quake and
Let the man push through, others are left without a clue
Large Professor in the house one two

I don't wanna ill, I just wanna chill
And keep my hand around a 100 dollar bill (Repeat 4x)

About as deadly as a nine, hit a rock man kind
Like a landmine with the I'll shit that I design
Professor, keeping sucker chump crews under pressure
Like this girl I know, but yo, I can't stress her
Cause I'm cool like that, matter fact even cooler
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Opposite of sun ruler, having nothing to do with Arula and Keena
You can catch me joyriding on Cocina
As I keep the compotition mind up in between a
Rock and a hard place, and just like a car chase
I'm action packed with the drama of Scarface
I'm real, honey'll hit me off with a meal
And I'm out so I can get me a stout, what's it all about?
Trying to stack off a contract, Jack
And stay black, as long as I can keep that intact
Ain't a damn thing stopping the one that keep ya hopping
Do you wonder what I'm dropping?

I don't wanna ill, I just wanna chill
And keep my hand around a 100 dollar bill (Repeat 4x)

So strap up for the return of the brother that earn
Props, but this time, I got to get more burn, hops
So record company man, please give me a push
So I can swing to higher levels of life like a kids and wife
And I'll deliver, for a while I didn't give a
Frustrated for fucking with the snakes that slither
But nevertheless, in 3-D's Large Profess
With what I would call a bullshit-proof vest
And yes, I make the beats you could feel in your chest
And write the rhymes that reflect a young man blessed
With the mind and motivation hitting your station
Coming back to attack off a ghetto vacation
For the hip-hop nation
I don't wanna ill