Grip Grand - Dead Bent lyrics

It go like, I hold mics like the Statue of Liberty Holds the torch viewed throughout the New York vicinity Is you kiddin' me? I half ‘em like fractions To be specific, smash a rapper back into atoms When you broke out I thought “Good riddance, don't come back, son” Pardon me, God Allah Born Equality Call me G, R.I.P. like a creepy headstone They never get the message like he in a 3G dead zone Phone a plumber, ‘cuz we always got the pipes out It's like “He's a super…” I'll turn your lights out I had this dream ever since I was a teen To eat the competition on some Idi Amin It goes, highly intelligent battle slang Still hopin' this rappin' thang Will come back around like a Batarang I seen you in the stands at the game But I already had the ball Grip came through raw like Big Daddy Kane In '88 plus 22, now I got a flow to pull the mic like a rug right out from under you A Rec show is so super-fun You know the crew and them Rhymers who make you wanna go stupid dumb Offend rappers like “f** you” Your verse is a no-show, or so-so, we will overdub you And don't feel the least regret Except for once, when one of my punchlines Beat MCs to d**h Scientific like Reed Richards or Hank Pym He spent all of his time behind bars like the state pen Too many wrong moves and you gon' lose Amateurs with Pro-Tools We go off like a blown fuse The whole crew burn you like “Zing!" In your face, yo Grip is livin' larger than a social worker caseload Fresh... If you say so, we just don't buy it The rec is unbeatable. P.S.—Don't try it What's the secret? If I told you, I'd have to k** you, it's cla**ified It wouldn't be the first time that a rapper died The Rec team destroy emcees who thought they was major league Stomp ‘em out like Gore-Tex ACG's And at the end of that, I go back in time And write some more mind-bending rap I told ‘em don't front, it's the truth Don't shoot the messenger Stay tuned for more spine-tingling adventures of…