Grip Grand - Whiteboard (Makin' Eggs) lyrics

...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