Illy Bomaye Lyrics

I appreciate

I really do

From my heart

Yeah

Your time will come

But for now weather the storm

Appreciate where your blessings come from

You wrote me off tryna put the boy in a coffin

Said I wasn’t worthy of this acrilate and this recognition

Sorta like I lost the keys to my ignition

So I hotwired the whole shit

And kept the car moving nigga

*** of the furious, every step miraculous

Every step directed by the most

I still hear it dropping bangers back to back

How I turn my back in the midst of back stabbers

I learnt a lot of lessons

Counting every single blessings

Never stressing over basic shit

Im on my fifth album

Feels like a youngin

With the soul of a veteran

Way badder than black belta twelve them

The flow martial arts

All I do is spit poisonous darts

Do the maths while I sit on top of charts

Never been in the greater zone

Just wanna be left alone

With my thoughts might come across

Igbo version of ricky ross

Slight semblance of biggi smalls

Or so they say

This the day when all the struggle

And the hustle pay off

Im in a different spirit

Trap, lamba cultural and nigga yall kill it

I tell my nigga suspect we still gon make it

Made a couple mistakes

And blunders in this crazy business

But its all good

Cus when you look back at all the greatness

You say God I thank you

Grateful

Illy Bomaye

I appreciate

I really do

From my herat

Yeah

Always giving in my very best

Till they lay me down to rest eternally

Ive been ahead first mentally

Then financially had to pick the locks to the game

Found my lane so I stayed in it

Fucking king **

Stopped signing artists for a minute

It never ends how it started

I wish you luck

Make it on your own

Nobody knows how you make it regardless

Just make it

Cus the end justifies the means

Counting my greens

No drums

No precautions

Im just here dropping knowledge

In and out of college

Soak it in show courage

If your mind and your soul permits

Too many humans turned reptiles

I fight the vomits

Still sane in the land of the mad

I jut I down with a pen and a pad

At times type with my phone

Toss a stone if your hands cleaner

Still a bread winner tryna buy a fume

Or ovens you get me right

That’s it