Lyrics BREGMA Freestyle 2 - Grip

BREGMA Freestyle 2 - Grip
Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song BREGMA Freestyle 2, artist - Grip.
Date of issue: 10.04.2019
Age restrictions: 18+
Song language: English

BREGMA Freestyle 2

Everybody say the same thing
«He looks like a baby, he looks like a baby»
Until they stick a gun in your face
Run that shit, nigga, fuckin' he'
A majority of these crimes are being committed by gang members
According to investigators, there are more than a hundred and thirty-five gangs
in Atlanta
Increasing teens, arming themselves, and getting a gun is just the first step
Yo, GRIP
Try do this in one take, uh
My heads low, I need that shit tenfold
The same shit I pray for be shit that I sin for
So playin' Nintendo, while pistols crescendo
Them nigga bustin', stay away from the window
Fuck one-on-one, niggas aim at your temple
That’s run-and-gun, can you play at that tempo?
Was young and dumb, plus we faded a little
Got uncles gun, and it’s plated with nickel
I’m in war with myself, but I’m nice and calm
Still up writin' 'til the crack of dawn
Tryna get some racks in these ashy palms
Maybe then I can get some cash for moms
'Cause Lord knows she needs it
The raps is cold, yeah the flow anemic
As far as my hood go, I throw it up every chance I get, but I’m no bulimic
Paint this picture with a stroke of genius, woke the demons up just to exercise
I’m tryna stretch it though, I need a plate with some extra sides
Pester and get sprayed like a pesticide
And won’t nobody testify (Huh), damn, I can attest to that
My ex never gave me the time of day, but now that I got next, she be texting
back
Let’s address the facts, I’m bringing death to tracks
I should hit the studio dressed in black
I been cookin' up like the chef from scratch
And this shit crack, you can test the batch
And nah, I ain’t sayin' I’m the best at rap
I just really ain’t impressed with cats
I treat the concrete like a wrestling mat
Then slam a nigga on his neck 'til it sound like a pretzel snapped
I bet that’ll make em' lay down
Stay down, run up, get done up
Hand get to feelin' like nunchucks
Dumbfuck got his front struck with a gun
But your last shit sucked, it belonged in a dump truck
Tellin' other homies you finally got one (I finally got one)
I asked for him to cover, then tossed the disses, shot the bitch out the air
with a shotgun
Niggas love to claim where they not from
And lil' niggas itchin' just to pop some
I may be a lot of things but I’m not dumb
Uhh, at least not 'til the cops come
My whole life I done been in limbo
Really can’t afford to let a limb drag (Hmm)
Shit as far as the pen go
I’m in a different world, word to Sinbad
(I hate the streets to the A and Y bodies?)
I need a Lisa Bonet to ride, shawty
I need a piece of the cake, a crib, a keys to the rave
And if you bein' away, you die probably
Every molecule I’m fallin' for are diabolical
I’m volatile, body you even if we’re biological
I died, I went to hell, I put the devil in the torture rap
Forcin' the force over the forest and it’s comin' back
Now here I am, roll a bleezy
Prepare the noise, shit I got, nigga, porch-swag
Shit is gettin' too easy, I stay bored
Snubnose on the way, nigga, wait for it
Wait for it, wait for it
Snubnose on the way, nigga, wait for it
Wait for it, wait for it, wait for it, hol' up (Uh)
Lay down, stay down, run up, get done up
Hand get to feelin' like nunchucks
Dumbfuck got his front struck with a gun
But I’m one up, I’m two up, I’m three up, I’m four up
Twenty-nineteen is the year that I blow up
But none of y’all said it
But I really meant that shit
I’m like a convict, I’m servin' sentences
I caught a charge, I was bodyin' instruments
Y’all as my witnesses, polished with penmanship
I got no friends in this, I don’t pretend it shit
Spit like extended clip, right at your syndicate
Hope they got benefits, I been legit since a jit
Try use the pen to get rich
Since the '90s I been with this shits
We went from boys to men with them sticks

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Artist lyrics: Grip