"Fa the Fuck Of It " by Illa WhiteFolks 
Lyrics submitted by wardedout

Verse 1
I rob fa the fuck of it 
Kill fa the fuck of it 
Mob fa the fuck of it 
Steal fa the fuck of it 
I live my life like a gangsta flic 
Yeah these bitches wanna bone, but it aint my whip homie 
‘cause I been dead broke for long as I remember 
can't neva be the champ, but I'm always a contender 
You know ya boy Illa aint the type to brag 
But believe ya boy Illa be the type to blast 
Fa the fuck of it, got these strippers suckin'dick 
Servin'rocks out my mouth, feelin'like my whole life is a fuckin'trip 
I pop trunks, pop pills, puff skunk, I'm off skills 
Use to love my life until I lost will 
I just wanna be known as a pot head who got bread 
Faked his own death, but his homies know he's not dead 
Prone to have a hot head and crucial with them thangs 
Sneak up on ya quiet, put a Ruger to ya brain 
fa the fuck of it 

Chorus

Verse 2
I'll pull a desert eag on ya set (fa the fuck of it) 
Skeated on Marie and Linette (fa the fuck of it) 
I g'd him for the keys to his Vette (fa the fuck of it) 
I'm fiendin'for the cheese, fuck respect you sorry sum a bitch 
I'm in your city with them out of town plates 
Pick up $750 then get out of town late 
Drop this hoe that's with me off at home in Round Lake 
By the time I made it back it hadda be around eight bitch 
I skipped break-fast and got out on the grind again 
These stupid pussies walked they ass into a lion's den 
Thought up some lyrics, but you know I couldn't find a pen 
I swear fo'God I don't care if I ever rhyme again 
I'm busy stayin'broke, can't believe I made parole 
Goin'on my second year, just got these three days to go 
I should be stayin'home, keepin'outa trouble dude 
But I'm breakin'into homes, squeezin'out a slug or two 

Chorus

Verse 3
I'm from that city of pitchforks, crowns and fins 
Where that murda kill mind state is pounded in 
I'm small timin', I don't know how much a thousand is 
My baby mamma told me I should keep from round my kids 
I got my fold out couch covered in pounds and clips 
A bullet hit me in the stomach, then came out my hip 
I was bleedin', but I still went and found that bitch 
Slugo told me all that means is that I'm ‘bout my shit 
I got promoted, now I'm eatin'just like chief and them 
But I got issues with myself that I can't seem to mend 
Next week I'm locked up, man I can't seem to win
I copped a plea and got it down to under three from ten 
As far as God go, I used to believe in him 
But now my motto is you will never breath again 
It's kinda odd though, how I plant my seeds of sin 
It's hard to swallow the fact you'll neva see ya kin 

Chorus