Lyrics BREGMA Freestyle - Grip

BREGMA Freestyle

You niggas might be aight but I’m more goody
This hip hop shit is a sport to me
I’m Bill Belichick in a porch hoodie
Pass me the torch, I’m a contortionist
The way I maneuvered into this game
They ain’t even opened the door fully
Niggas tough talking, I scorch bullies
Literally, fuck a metaphor
A blind man can see that my team is ahead of yours
So I ain’t gotta check the score
They diggin Grip like Tu do crates at the record store
I’m either Heath Ledger or Brandon Lee
See I can catch a bullet randomly
Or OD on medication and never become the legend I plan to be
It’s a very thin line between genius and insanity
I walk the tight rope
Shall I fall?
I hope to end it all on the right note
For this shit that I write bro
I get a check and I don’t mean spell checking for typos
This ain’t a essay
I paid the cost to be the jefe, more work and less play
And now a nigga polished
Funny since they kicked me outta college
I been kicking knowledge
Far from consciousness
Just a nigga with a guilty conscience
Part of my mental was built on nonsense
So I be with the fuck shit, that’s why at every function
While all you niggas jumping
I’m in this bitch with my back against the wall
And a strap in my draws for niggas yapping they jaws
Shorty grabbed me by my hand and said I never dance
Then asked if I’m nervous
I just don’t want this shit to fall and pop myself like a Plaxico Burress
Your flow compared to mine is like a match to a furnace
So I pay more in taxes than what you actually earning
Factual learning, I’m the captain of this ship
Before I ride a nigga wave, I’ll capsize this bitch
And yo' ass might get drenched, looking baptized and shit
But ain’t no pastor, just a black guy with a stick, get jacked ridin' in the six
Candy paint, got 'em looking like a sweet lick
To a broke nigga that’s a cheap fix, man is a maze to compete with
40 calibre, it’ll end your calendar
Challengers lining up for your Challengers or Camaro
Get robbed for your Dinero
You better play scarecrow
Or hollow tips outta that barrel
Ripping through apparel
I keep it real thorough
Let you niggas play Will Ferrel
I’m a wheel barrow
Push through the ills and perils to see if the grass is greener
Niggas still gotta stash the nina
Me and Tig passing weed and mashin' through Pasadena
Off the liq
I’m surprised we ain’t crashed the Bimmer
Pardon my brash demeanor
The freshman that’ll outclass a class of seniors
And still ain’t even amassed his genius
Wear a smile just to mask the demons
Stray gang to the casket
And never let the cash between us, uh