Lyrics 226 - Grip, Big Rube

226 - Grip, Big Rube
Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song 226, artist - Grip. Album song Snubnose, in the genre Рэп и хип-хоп
Date of issue: 10.10.2019
Age restrictions: 18+
Record label: Human Re Sources, Stray Society
Song language: English

226

Y’all already know what it is
Big Rube, S.W.A.T.
Zone 4
Y’all cats wanna go in circles and do the same thing over and over
Well, this the revolver
How you comin' up when you fall for the trap?
Got the dope game fucked off, now you tryna murk rap
True success comes from work, fuck understanding, know that
Ain’t none niggas servin' dubs gon' get rich off one pack
How many sacks?
How many stacks?
Don’t matter, this ain’t 'bout that
It’s 'bout the illness of the spirit 'caused by the realness niggas lack
Recidivism is the schism that’s becoming an Achilles that we can’t heal
Why the sounds of our blackness has turned into white noise that we can’t feel?
I’d never knowingly endorse a purchase of some shit that was created by those
without skill
Life teaches this lesson
Originality and talent are two things that you can’t steal
Dead for real, this ain’t no game, your ass could end up dead for real
This endless cycle of ridiculousness is what we need to kill
Yet in still, we didn’t instill, with thoughts counteracted the heaven as live
So that same bullshit we been programmed with is all we have to give
Revolving around the same snubnose we can’t see 'til they pull it
It’s the epitome of ignorance 'cause only a fool plays Russian roulette with
six bullets
Gone
All black hoodie on, feelin' like Trayvon but this time I got the gun drawn
Nigga you can get sprayed on (You, you), nigga you can get sprayed on (You,
you), nigga you can get sprayed on (You, you), nigga you can get sprayed on
(You, you), nigga you can get sprayed on (You, you, you)
Wish a nigga would tell me to run my pockets
I’ma pop it, locked and loaded, I ain’t gotta cock it
Bodies droppin', call the cops and Johnnie Cochran
Niggas bleeding, hope the doctors can stop it
Bustin' shots at all the opps, plottin', mama screamin'
Sirens singing, paramedics, where’s he headed, will he make it, maybe?
Seventeen, he still a baby, life is faded, family prayin'
If we spot who shot you, we gon' drop them
God will avenge you
The cycle continues

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Artist lyrics: Grip