(Adlibs)
Verse 1:
Now I'm a flash-flood flow-er and a fast mud thrower
Who's known to always fill his “raps-ripped-a-month” quota
I'll just have a club soda. I'm over the hill!
In a few years I'll be a pioneer like Buffalo Bill
f** it, I still keep the mic tucked
Got the right stuff
Empty wallet with a “Free Grip” bu*ton…nice touch!
Life s**s just as much as it's beautiful
Grip came to brighten yours up like a plant in your cubicle
Suitable for framin', put my name in the Hall of Fame with
A dollar and a dream's all I came with
Blame it on the rain, or the game, or the matrix
It's all the same sh** that I'm out to crush
I stay fresh, dressed like a thousand bucks
Don't f** with Grip Grand, man, his album s**s!
Yo, scout's honor! I'm on some lo-fi and don't care a bit!
Folks know my broke flow—don't go repairin' it!
(Chorus)
Verse 2:
Let's spit the real raw sound!
Grip never lost bouts
This is big things like your boss' house!
Phenomenal! You're in awe of me, aren't you?
A breakthrough performance like Nas at the barbeque!
Grip get it pronto!
Your style is so herb
You should put it on tacos and call it cilantro
You're just another notch in my rhyme-book spine
Get your own super-rap pill, ‘cuz I took mine!
Now I do my own stunts, like light my own blunts
You're a s**er! You never touch the microphone once
In a place you really don't wanna go, like graveyards
I don't even have to Phil the Agony to Train Hard
I got some programs, chopped some slow jams
Rock the mic like I'm holdin' my heart in both hands!
Grip don't need a chain to shine
‘Cuz every time I say a rhyme, I'm hangin' a danger sign!
Like…
(Chorus)