| Uh, and so it goes
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| Was rockin' stolen clothes back when Ludacris was throwin' bows
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| Dickies and Girbauds at the corner store on Panola Road
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| Livin' fast and dyin' young, nobody growin' old
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| Unspoken but understood like Morse code
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| You sellin' dope 'cause your mama crib got foreclose
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| And maybe add a few pairs of kicks to your wardrobe
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| You sick of livin' average, Lord knows
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| This shit done switched you to a savage, Lord knows
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| You down to split a nigga cabbage, Lord knows
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| You at the club, tryna hop on some hoes and some random nigga done just stepped
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| on your toes
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| If you was by yourself, you’d let it slide but since you with your bros,
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| you stomped that nigga out and bloodied up his clothes
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| But here’s some shit nobody knows
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| He sittin' in his car with a fully loaded TEC, he gon' wet up the parking lot
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| as soon as that bitch close
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| Yeah, hoe, uh, uh
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| Eastside is Spaghetti Junction, nigga pullin' up to the function
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| Four deep and the speakers be thumpin', pop the trunk and niggas be dumpin'
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| If you get caught slippin', you slumpin' and we came from nothing to something
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| We was selling midget and bunkin' back when all of you niggas was crumpin'
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| Can I get a witness, please?
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| We came from the mud, we never had gifts put under the Christmas trees
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| So then me and my niggas thought of a way that we could really get the cheese
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| Now I’m on top of these words, parenthesis
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| Don’t go against the beast if you plan on keepin' your limbs and knees
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| I pray for my enemies, when I pull up, I’m bringing the shit like an enema
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| Down to swing like a pendulum but worst come to worst, then we shootin' like
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| cinema
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| I grew up with criminals, keep them a witness, subliminals
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| Opposition was never identical, niggas peakin', I’m not even at my pinnacle
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| I never did it for fame, me and my niggas is one and the same
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| Make you a little bit of change, everybody wanna say that you changed
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| I never did it for chains, I did it so me and my niggas can gain
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| Never stop spittin' these flames, nuh uh, never stop spittin' these flames
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| Sweat, tears, blood, got up out of that mud
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| Hold you there like they ain’t know who I was
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| Back when a nigga was stressin' that they never checked for me
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| Nowadays, niggas be checking that I got a check for me
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| My ex, she flexed on me but now she wanna be next to me
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| Wishin' the best for me, these niggas want in on the recipe
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| Angel protecting me but I keep a TEC on me
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| Angel protecting me but I keep a TEC on me
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| I got the pounds off half of the price these niggas was talkin'
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| Get ya plug plugged for half of what them niggas was chargin'
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| Dozen legs, dropping eggs, had pitch 'em a carton
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| Incubate the wrinkled paper, get that chicken regardless
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| Fuck y’all niggas keep looking at? |
| Fuck I’m getting mistooken as?
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| Twenty shots, run up in the parking lot, fuck y’all niggas keep shooting at?
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| Shaking down niggas for twenty-two hundred but fuck y’all want me to do with
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| that?
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| They got caught at the library, brought him an offer, he turned to an author,
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| they booked his ass
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| But I pray that you find me, with a plate at the First 48 and my zombies
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| An 8th in my laundry, my bitch in the front, and the station behind me
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| I pray that you clock me, any nigga that’s watching, I’m taking his timepiece
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| And pray for my mommy, got insomnia but I’m hoping I make it inside, G
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| Sweat, tears, blood, got up out of that mud
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| Hold you there like they ain’t know who I was
|
| Back when a nigga was stressin' that they never checked for me
|
| Nowadays, niggas be checking that I got a check for me
|
| My ex, she flexed on me but now she wanna be next to me
|
| Wishin' the best for me, these niggas want in on the recipe
|
| Angel protecting me but I keep a TEC on me
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| Angel protecting me but I keep a TEC on me |
Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Tek , by - Grip. Song from the album Snubnose, in the genre Рэп и хип-хоп