Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song BREGMA Freestyle, artist - Grip. Date of issue: 06.03.2019
Age restrictions: 18+
Song language: English
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 |