Grip Grand - Exhibit G lyrics

I been transformin' sounds into something much higher But I can't put ‘em out like it was a brushfire There ain't no release date I'm waitin' for that leaked pre-release tape To open doors like a bus driver Cuz Grip oughta be number one, two, or three On your list of young spitters Whose flow could crush rhymers I got motivation, that run up in the booth and do Ten songs a day, that 2Pac motivation I gotta make another stop, phone the station… What made you think you could fool with What only God can judge? Grip is advanced with his music, it's only obvious After you watch me bust Enough of these words to fill up a Whole encyclopedia, almanac, or an omnibus Which is to say I'm prolific and spit a lot of stuff This is the way I transmit it, your sh** is out of touch And it's a damn shame We treat our pain like it was champagne And try to keep both of ‘em bottled up I'm Led Zep with the flow, get a whole lotta love I even bring it to your face on occasion So when I'm in the place, a rapper stays on vacation I seen a few vacatin' the stage on the way in Straight jet when the Rec came in, I cain't blame ‘em Yeah, we super-scientifical Technicians of sound like Dre and Bobby D-Digital I used to give ‘em a rap, now I don't git with the track Until they write the check up, I need a physical My rap is deep like it's part of a secret ritual Why you pursue me? I'm miles beyond your arm lengths They tried to throw me out, I was already on base I make a strong case I'm years ahead of my time That's why my watch-face has Always got the wrong dates The right place, right moment, that's what I call fate From San Francisco to Broakland, my team is All-Bay Removin' rappers is my job, I had a long day I'm tired of rhymin' like, f** it, just let the song play They call me Grip Grand Inquisitor f** that, they call me Grip Grand the Wizard or Grip Grand the Visitor Grip Grand a vision for the future with charisma Whose superhuman moves are more Confusin' than the Riddler I shine a signal in the sky like the Commissioner My styles are all over your head like your conditioner I wrote a lyric in a language no one understands Somehow I held it together like rope and rubberbands I changed my name to Grip “I need a couple hundred” Grand Off of just one advance, who said that talk is cheap? So what if every rapper already git on this beat? I built a time machine so I could travel back To when they made it And then say that I had already spit on this beat And when the song's complete they put it on the street like parking meters So that all of y'all can see that I been on a streak I won a lot of games I'm like a phoenix comin' out the flames And then I leave ‘em screamin' out my name…