Super Ill Villain

(album: Banned From America - 2011)

It's Mad Child the super ill villain
The Canadian werewolf if not getting into America right now
But I'll be back
Battle axe warriors hold that shit down for me

Bounty hunter like Boba Fett
Inspector Gadget with the go-go jet
People look at me saying, “Boy that man bad”
Warrior like Braveheart, Troy, and Mad Max
Striker with the battle axe, mic I can shatter that
Glad I got my shadow back riding in the Cadillac
Coupe de Ville chilling. Super ill villain
Won't let me in the States but my group's still killing
You don't really want to try to hurt my feelings
That's when your blood could squirt to the ceiling
Rob Vike chilling, Prev-one chilling
What more can I say? I'm still in
Even though I'm not there still top billing
Ice-T got away with songs about cop killing
I was being good, that's what I call raw dealings
Aw fuck it, I don't even care I'mma leave it there
I'm lucky to be even fucking breathing air

Hey Mad Child, crawl into a corner and die
I can't do that, I still must try
This is all I'm put on this earth for
All my other friends are busy caught in a turf war

Cops still treat me like I am in a gang
But how could I be? I don't do anything
All I do is stay home, write rhymes, and work out
Praying everything is gonna work out

Hey to make it in this game is like winning the jackpot
These days you don't need a label, just a laptop
Rapping has failed and turned into a crackpot
So I suggest a second job if you a have-not
Anything, selling drugs, pouring blacktop
You can't eat off Facebook getting mad props
Old and broke, that shit'll leave you in a bad spot
Shooting videos with grandma's kitchen as the backdrop
Okay, I know my time is coming, feel like I'm gonna blast off
Cause I got nothing left to lose, I rap my ass off
I listen to these rappers, mad soft
Cause everybody sound the same, flash mob
See I can do that too but it won't last dog
So I said fuck it and choose to do exact opp
So how I'm gonna turn this shit into a cash crop?
Shit, I'mma keep on spitting till the last drop

Hey Mad Child, crawl into a corner and die
I can't do that, I still must try
This is all I'm put on this earth for
All my other friends are busy caught in a turf war

Cops still treat me like I am in a gang
How could I be? I don't do anything
All I do is stay home, write rhymes, and work out
Praying everything is gonna work out