Brandon Bula - Daily Grind lyrics

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Brandon Bula - Daily Grind lyrics

[Verse 1: Edgar Wyndham] I'm at the brink and about to jump over Punks jump up, get beat down when I'm sober Then I think faster and am quicker to capture So ba*tards, just freeze like a statue So I can just blast you with even less trouble My mic spray rounds though I'm seein double So be reasonable an' don't drop a lotta bull And give me a reason to pull out the auto full Full-ly, though you know that's really not me Sometimes I still wanna go off irrationally Cuz social responsibility and political content With the mainstream that sh**'ll always conflict Money make hip-hop s** worse than '96 Shadow of what it was, with all this mindless sh** But I'm scholastic, you know I'm in the know And oh smash it so hot I got a pyroclastic flow [Verse 2: Edgar Wyndham] I'd have to be lyin' to say I ever waste time Ain't never been a day I ain't been on my daily grind In the music biz the new potentate, I'm The potentate of time who don't simply rhyme I'm the gold lion who is always betrayed Ain't lyin when I say enemies'll be slayed And never underestimate the power of an enemy Any enemy of his is a friend of me Life on mars, take it back to the seventies With music stars makin' music that's heavenly Wonder will this music just be the d**h of me Show and prove it with every breath that's left in me Style so heavenly so watch me flow on ya The president of weaponry, I ba-rrrock o-bomb-ya So I dominate and bomb ya wit the hate Plus I'll drop lines for y'all to contemplate [Verse 3: Edgar Wyndham] Everyday I feel the need to smack the daily fool Cuz everything they say is so lackadaisical In fact, I'm sick of all these act tough guys Ya f**s think ya fly cuz you used to buckin in the sky I spit on tracks cuz I know the price If I don't give it back, what's the point in this life Yea I'm not black I might happen to be white You notice? but I don't like rappin race on the mic Cuz I'm tight regardless of the color Use a mic like a hard pillow, take it and I smother Cuz there's no other that could k** it like me Don't have to be a brother to be a real MC Cuz I love beats, and yea I love the funk Call thugs weak to they face cuz I'm drunk So pop that trunk, that won't make ya tough Let's fight with mics, we'll see who has the biggest nuts