Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Grim, artist - Smuff Tha Quiz.
Date of issue: 08.07.2021
Song language: English
Grim |
I’m taking my time to get the feel then adjust |
I scope it all, I seen the writings on the wall |
I read the room then moved along |
I’m watching for snakes in my lawn and the longest arm of the law |
We need body armor and bombs, I’m embalming them like Saddam |
A sadistic ritual form, it’s in my nature I guess |
I digress, back to the art for the of which I’m obsessed |
The sonics connect like I’m RZA, bring it straight to yo' neck |
I navigated through neglect and take the necessary steps |
I pivot just to elevate, allowing my words to set in |
To set the record straight, the realism’s how it resonates |
in a song but fate a predetermined date |
The derelict known to deceive, to put a want over a need |
To fulfill the feeling of greed, the animalistic instinct |
We been on the brink of extinction, the spiritual awakening releasing |
The consciousness of the mind is peaking |
Within a steady ground where there’s nothing new to believe in |
Internal been my battle, where I fight my grievances |
Demons been trying to steer me down a one-way with a blindfold |
Heaven and hell, where we headed well only God knows |
Either way they giving toe tags with a barcode |
I hope we find the resolution |
I hope we find the resolution |
'Cause it all looks grim |
It all looks grim |
I hope we find the resolution |
I hope we find the resolution |
'Cause it all looks grim |
It all looks grim |
Yo yo, Fro, Fro, yo |
Make way, say when |
Stay blessed, y’all so |
The rhymes that I rap are grim like MF with my wins and my bicep |
Lyrically benchpress, never will be boredom when you are listening to the big |
foot |
Leave your power shortage and then Fro disappear in the woods |
Onto a gritty battle like drug addicts in the alley, it can get grim |
Mortality waiting, it get challenging |
The of knowing crime is emotionless |
The, the culprit, what kind of commotion is this? |
The one that go gung-ho, hole in your lungs slow, quid pro quo |
The cops close in, I’m running low |
Six foot three, the suspect is black and Spanish |
Crooked police, see me a threat, have to vanish |
Have to manage, in this ice cold life like an eskimo, damage the mic |
When I’m on sight, I’m 'bout to let it fro |