I Just wanna chill

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 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 [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 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 [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 
Coming back to attack off a ghetto vacation 
For the hip-hop nation 
I don't wanna ill