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  [bad word] 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 [bad word] 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 [bad word] 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 [bad word] 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 
Opposite of [bad word]  having nothing to do with [bad word] and Keena 
You can catch me joyriding on Cocina 
As I keep [bad word] 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 [bad word] 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 [bad word] 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  [bad word] for [bad word] with the snakes that slither 
But nevertheless, in 3-D's Large Profess 
With what I would call a [bad word] 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 [bad word] back to attack off a ghetto vacation 
For the hip-hop nation 
I don't wanna ill