...Put it...put it in the air...
People always gotta talk
I can hear 'em in the hall
I can hear 'em change the volume of the TV through the wall
You can chalk it up to ignorance
Jot it on the whiteboard
If I get any higher I'll require a longer mic cord
It's layers to this music
And when I peel 'em back
Then everybody get a full clip
I put 'em in a rap to give the track a Silver Bullet
There's nothing "Light" about me
My record speaks for itself when these motherf**ers doubt me
Call the reverend for the exorcism
Get these demons out me
Send 'em screamin back to hell
And when I hear the beep they talk, I need a sleeping bag, for real
I am so tired of the bullsh**
I can't make my appointment, tell the doctor that I'm still sick
And then re-up my prescription
But they don't make a medicine to clear up my condition
I'ma read up on my history and give up my religion
"When you believe in things you don't understand, then you suffer"
-- Stevie Wonder, "Superstition"
After midnight, in my boxer shorts, I wander to the kitchen
Cause I need a gla** of water
Does anybody love Grip?
Well, you'd need to ask my daughter
You'd have to ask my son if I could be a better father
Some people never bother
Just another vicious cycle that I don't want any part a'...
It don't come any harder
So don't come any farther
I guess that's what I'm sayin'
They call it devil music, so I guess that's what I'm playin'
People wonder what my color is like "Steppin' to the A.M."
I know that you're not old enough to get that line
I'll prob'ly use a different rhyme
But, honestly, I couldn't really care
My middle finger, I'ma put it in the air like it's a picket sign
Ain't you know I got it?
"And what is 'it', exactly?"
What is this, a joke? I am offended that you asked me
All my levels on a billion times a billion so get back, we
'Bout to k** it, son, it's filthy like the back seat of a taxi
I'm sayin', the flow is is nasty
I'm insane, the flow is Kathy...Bates in Misery:
I'm breakin' legs
This your brain on d**
And Grip is in the kitchen makin' eggs
People always gotta talk
I can hear 'em in the hall
I can hear 'em change the volume of the TV through the wall
You can chalk it up to ignorance
Jot it on the whiteboard
If I get any higher I'll require a longer mic cord