Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Placebo, artist - Grip. Date of issue: 26.08.2021
Song language: English
Placebo |
| You gotta reload, infinite clips like I got the cheat code |
| Spittin' a brick like I copped from Chico |
| You wasn’t in the mix, you watched through peephole |
| Starin' out the window, witnessin' livin' at a quicker tempo |
| But ain’t no reset, this not Nintendo, our life was preset |
| Dark is a defect, you got the remote, you take your seat yet? |
| You get to see death all over C notes |
| I ain’t no preacher, don’t be callin' me woke, just ain’t been sleep yet |
| This ain’t for V necks, go get your peacoat, I see your feet cold |
| Just take a deep breath and watch me heat check all of your heroes |
| They didn’t heal you, that’s just placebo |
| I’m just a nappy headed negro aka reject |
| My alter ego get all the respect, but if you see, bro |
| Off in the streets, bet your ass would relapse |
| If you ain’t know that he raps like, fuck the verses, he’ll clutch your purses |
| My stream of income through a streaming service |
| If you don’t listen, they gon' deem me worthless, so I need every purchase |
| (Yeah) |
| That’s why I’m steady workin', I’m a heady person |
| So I go through dry spells, but this shit feel like a levy burstin' (Yeah) |
| Open the floodgates, they knew I was special after that Snub tape |
| Just thought l’d touch base, this is the update |
| COVID constantly, code red boundaries, how could we |
| While gossiping, culturally grow responsibly? |
| Cops or the ops to be cokeheads cop from me |
| Them hotels got me a protest consciously |
| Rolex watch on me, feds clockin' me, we own less |
| Property, atrocity, mo' debt, invest stock in the oppressed |
| Controlling yo' net-profitting |
| Told y’all 'bout them Jim Crow laws, that’s more/less prophecy |
| My bars be trap, my car seat’s back |
| Against odds, my cards be stacked, my Wall Street black |
| I dreamt all would pay me in health, it’s degrading to do pilates |
| Generational wealth, niggas say we Illuminati |
| To be religiously Christian versus dissettlement |
| Perfect embezzlement, bitch, we get in, worship the devil, rich |
| Melanin vibration indebted to God, gracious |
| They scared of Sanaa Lathan, genetic annihilation, uh |
| This ain’t what B.I.G. |
| meant when he came and kicked in your door |
| New whip for niggas that walk, look rich for niggas that’s poor |
| You bang for niggas that’s soft, new chain for niggas that floss |
| You sin for niggas, that’s God, you win for niggas, that’s lost all |
| Them top models come out with the see-through panties |
| I bleed blue Brandy and Art Basel by the Hebru Brantley’s |
| Yeah, I’m entitled to whites, so I got Harvard on my app |
| The ops just be callin' me light, then falls into my lap |
| Them execs suspended your record that’ll send you a extra exorcism |
| So keep your respect, we just reap the regrets of nepotism |
| I’ll dollar bill you or check, but you got to be specific |
| I got to keep you in check, so you got to be complicit |
| From A to Z, only you can compare with the streets |
| But only we can keep playing musical chairs with the seats |
| Yeah, and I’m black, so I got a target on my back |
| (But where you at?) Atlanta, Georgia, where I started on the map |
| Was bargainin' for scraps, they lethargic, I’m bargin' in for racks |
| The margin is startlin', this who you thought was harder with the raps? |
| What’s the argument? |
| Really ain’t no guardin' him, in fact |
| I step back, let it fly, I’m James Harden with the strap |
| Might just travel wit' it, to get a shot off in the clutch |
| We both paid to be the boss, but it ain’t cost you as much |
| And even bosses get touched, so keep your head on a swivel |
| And pray you end up at the top and not dead in the middle |
| Out-of-towners pull up with diamonds and they bezel and dentals |
| Think shit sweet 'til lil' niggas pump lead in your rental, ha |
| Got 'em duckin' shots, the juggernaut to stuff you in a fuckin' box |
| I just checked the mud on top, you dug the plot |
| I tuck the Glock from which the slugs was popped that struck the ops |
| Who thought this shit was butterscotch? |
| I’m finna crank this up a notch |