supported by
Emilio Francischelli
Emilio Francischelli thumbnail
Emilio Francischelli I dunno how I hadn't heard of Grip Grand earlier because he's on another level, honestly. I picked up this album, plus a bunch of his singles and other freebie albums (DEFINITELY gonna pay for them when I can to show my support,) and I'm in love with them, man. I have a love-hate relationship with the genre, I only like select songs- sometimes I don't know what I want out of rap, I don't know if I even LIKE rap anymore, until I come across someone like Grip Grand and I love it all over again. Favorite track: Suckers.
Danielle McBride
Danielle McBride thumbnail
Danielle McBride followed by Rewinder, I Go Numb, Rap Shit and Aye Aye Aye Favorite track: Flat Top Rules.
/
  • Streaming + Download

    Includes unlimited streaming via the free Bandcamp app, plus high-quality download in MP3, FLAC and more.
    Purchasable with gift card

      $5 USD  or more

     

  • Compact Disc (CD) + Digital Album

    Plastic jewel case with insert.

    Includes unlimited streaming of Rewinder via the free Bandcamp app, plus high-quality download in MP3, FLAC and more.
    ships out within 7 days

      $10 USD or more 

     

  • Full Digital Discography

    Get all 26 Grip Grand releases available on Bandcamp and save 25%.

    Includes unlimited streaming via the free Bandcamp app, plus high-quality downloads of Outsider Art, Something in the Water (I'm Fine), I Chose Rap (2008), All Ages, Grey Clouds, Whiteboard (Makin' Eggs), GG MOOD! BUT HOW? (GG DOOM INSTRUMENTALS), Suckers Smoke Resin, and 18 more. , and , .

    Purchasable with gift card

      $23.24 USD or more (25% OFF)

     

1.
03:20
Verse 1: Dear Universe, since we last spoke I been trying to work the angles ‘cuz the label’s flat broke Did my last quote-unquote "smash" get the cash? Nope Now I’m comin’ back hard like Everlast on That’s Coke I been runnin’ rap hard, never had a track coach But as far as dope beats and bars, I had both You need better punchlines like a bad joke? Well Grip could ghostwrite ‘em They scared like ghost sightings Frightened, and lookin’ for holes to go hide in I’m lookin’ for a booth my flows can go live in There’s no rhymin' you could beat me with Terminal illness, Grip is completely sick Don’t ask me if I like your show -- yo, I hate it I only think a song is “Ohhh!!” if I made it Even after I faded away they still say I spit so many times my flow’s dehydrated They like it when I’m speakin’ on life like wise men They like it when I be on the mic like Rakim They like it just enough to get played But not enough to get paid Or get my record to break the Top Ten The DJ make it blend like Ron G In the studio, trying to produce like Paul C You don’t know the blood, sweat, and the tears it cost me Man, I’m tired of y’all thinkin’ our styles are all free ...Nah, I’m just playin’ But I’m not against makin’ the dough, I’m just sayin’ You know my frustration So that’s why I act like I will crack a rapper in half like crustaceans Dirty like the bathroom at the bus station Or clean like a bottle of bleach I breathe fire when I speak I spit sharp like I filed my teeth I sleep on a mountain of bones and a pile of beats I eat break-loops for breakfast, lyrics for lunch I kill a track after hearin’ it once I don’t care if you front I’m in the cut like a razor blade, tearin’ it up Gave it away like spare change in a cup Me and Sha give the people more bang for they buck A volcano, can’t wait to erupt My flow hot as a stove A superpower ‘bout to conquer the globe Walk in the door & split a rapper like a fork in the road Other writers wanna cipher like I’m talkin’ in code They get weak and collapse, I’m just speakin’ the facts I’m still swingin’ like a lumberjack choppin’ down trees with a axe Except I’m choppin’ MCs with my raps Now I’m back on this Grip-plus-Shalem collab Stay in the lab and make a song every day-and-a-half It’s so easy, your man got a plan and a fortified DJ That jam like the 405 freeway
2.
03:23
Verse 1: Grip Grand is the way I spell Success, y’all F to the A-I-L It ain’t a MC I couldn’t say I’d kill I can’t die so I don’t gotta make my will I just press play, rap like I say I will Make a deal for a mill', that’s the day I chill But until then I’ma keep buildin’ the buildin’ up What the fuck, gotta pay my bills Gotta take my pills, ‘cuz MCs are a pain in the ass No offense, that’s the way I feel Take a spill and I still get up You gon' see I’m gon' be on some Bun B, Trill and stuff On some unplugged mic, rap real and stuff On some one glove, Mike Jack Thriller stuff On some One Love, Nas E-40 shit Russian roulette, one slug for the clip One blood, one drop, that’s all you get Not me, I’m sick, I was born to spit Your whole flow’s inappropriate So, yeah, I got beef A cannibal with a bone to pick Do I own my shit? “I own this” while I hold my dick I’m a coin toss, yo, I flip Any verse, any style, any flow I flip ‘Til competitors fold on some “Yo, I quit!” Chorus: M-E is the way I spell Success, y’all F to the A-I-L Y’all F to the A-I-L Y’all F to the A-I-L Rec-League is the way I spell Success, y’all F to the A-I-L Y’all F to the A-I-L Y’all F to the A-I-L Verse 2: I go nuts on a rapper, bust on a rapper Put ‘em in the ground, throw dust on a rapper Old school, go Cold Crush on a rapper Who knew you could hate so much on a rapper? Over the top, still known for the bop The Rec's like concrete, all over the block Pick a name out a hat, they oughta stay outta rap Grip is like AAA, get my name on the map You’re not able to match wits, I’m able to back flip I spit on the mic, so I ain’t gonna pass it You’re makin’ a massive mistake Thinking you could get away with actin’ fake, we ain’t gonna have it It takes time makin’ a classic I ain’t gonna tell anyone how I make it-- it’s magic Grip Grand, in case you forget It would take brain surgery to make you forget Yo, no doubt, time to dead that mess I’m a rap Superman, gotta wear that S So control the noise, I expose a toy When it comes to the flow, I’m the poster boy You should, jump for joy, to hear my mic On the real, couldn’t even get near my mic You know we shine bright, and the Rec is a neon light Another step and you’ll be on ice Chorus
3.
03:31
Verse 1: Son, I been round the block a lot Speak in tongues, polyglot Don’t stop the bodyrock I don’t slap five, I karate chop You go to the club where the bottles pop I go smoke ‘dro out a skull with a hollow top Talk like I oughta talk Seems like you wanna walk in my shoes I’m Optimus Prime, you’re a Dinobot Your shit and mine are not compatible ‘Cuz game recognize game I’m the Superbowl, you’re a paddleball Blah blah blah, what I say doesn’t matter Y’all never listen Clever spittin’? Why bother with that at all? Got a short attention span? Here, take a Adderall Anxiety? Ativan -- generic Lorazepam Me, I hook a beat up in the studio and track a jam Masterplan -- rappers get bent like they’re Plasticman This is genuine crack, even amnesiacs still remember my rap Chorus: I go numb When I go dumb Who wanna ride? Stickin’ out your thumb, sayin' I go numb When I go dumb Who wanna ride? You know I don’t run I go numb When I go dumb Who wanna ride? Stickin’ out your thumb, sayin' I go numb When I go dumb Who wanna ride? You know I don’t run Verse 2: Like I say, we already bang Flows, spittin’ heavy flames Skinny neck, heavy chains One man with many names Grip Grand get the job done, check the resume' Shalem, I need some more heat, get the pepper spray Make a clean getaway Never say never? Say what? That’s some shit I would never say, ever! Told ‘em any song that you can make, we can make better I could turn the flow into a wolf, rearrange letters Man, I switch styles repeatedly Since way back when it was just G & G Home studios was the genesis Still puff the greenery, chew up the scenery Bitch, I don’t play like my old busted Genesis Been independent, yes Been self-sufficient Been underground, been broke, I can't tell the difference Grip is so gifted Flow is so dumb I got left back I year, I was goin' so dumb Chorus Bridge: You know I don't walk, I float on air I go dumb, you know I don't care Gotta ice cold glare, so y'all don't stare Or I'll turn you to stone with my eyes, so there Gotta style so rare, I'm worth my weight In gold record plaques for the tracks I make Better go get your facts straight or get the gas face That's word to 3rd Bass Chorus
4.
Verse 1: Flat top rules, flat top '89 Man I used to have mine with the lines like Kane It was high school high and the girls was fly I was practicin’ lines trying to rhyme like Kane With a rayon shirt, do the running man, yeah, y’all, work So c’mon, let’s move it like Special Ed Tapes was the grittiest Grip Grand was born in the City, bitch That’s the most true shit I ever said Fat cap rules, '92, new school With the Air Max lime green trim new shoes Had a swap-meet t-shirt, Dickies, Ben Davis Wore a web belt, matched Starter hats, ten flavors Rocked satin-lined flannel tops King shit like Camelot Cali G’s, Sammy sold trees out a ammo box Back in the day I knew rap would never die out What the fuck else you gonna listen to to ride out? Chorus Verse 2: '85 rules, '85, old school It was Slick Rick, Run DMC, and me With the track suit pants in a B-Boy stance Hip-hop steady blowin’ up, TNT Had skips, not kicks, man I couldn’t buy shit Pay what? Payless, better yet pay nothin’ So I didn’t look fresh in my hand-me-down vest Or a fake Member’s Only jacket straight frontin’ '88 rules, junior high, high school Where were you? I was at the store buyin’ PE Had the gray cassette, used to play that shit ‘Til it broke and eventually I bought the CD Yeah, '91 rules, Native Tongues, so cool New York had the jazz, LA had the violence With a beanie pulled low, couldn’t see a good show I was too young to go ‘cuz they might have a riot [Riot Bridge] Chorus Verse 3: Back pack rules, '93 rap rules Headphones so big bout ta’ break my neck Trying to walk with a bop, troop up to the Hip Hop Shop Cop a Conart shirt from Hex Got a Tommy Hill top that Grand Puba rocked In a video before he dropped Reel to Reel, B? Or were you more on that cold Timberlands when it snows And a parka like Preem on the Arena LP? Yeah, Jumpman rules, '9-cipher, etc. In the rhyme cipher, Grip flow with a sharp tongue Can’t afford Jordans so I gotta save up Bought the silver and black with the glow-in-the-dark tongue Everyone wanna go back to the past But for me, I would still hop back to the future If, back in the day, you knew rap would never die? You were right, ‘cuz we still got rap in the future Chorus
5.
04:02
Verse 1: Man, they got my head all busted Tried to tell me I was unproductive Doin' all these songs that they don't wanna fuck with Shit from the heart, but they don't wanna touch it And they said art's really not in the budget Tried to get smart, but they wanted that dumb shit Not the same concept they wanted to run with You know who I am? Yo, you must have the wrong Grip Cut all the long skits, you ain't De La A crossover hit? Sorry, you ain't Hey Ya You need a get a new style or they won't play 'ya But what style, exactly, they won't say-a Now they got me fucked, not trustin' my instinct I just try to bubble like soap in a dish-sink Distinct feeling I'm being misunderstood It's all good? Yo, that's not what Grip thinks Chorus: You take a good thing and you ruin it Come to my hood, don't think of doin' it I don't know who you think you're foolin' with To all the suckers, I love you anyway You're the best at bein' the worst, you know Your disease is irreversible Oh, please don't take it personal To all the suckers, I love you anyway Verse 2: Damn, they tryin' to change the name, man A whole new direction, change the game plan Switch it all around so it's not the same and The people still front 'cuz it's not a name brand Yo, they tried to kill me, I seen the hangman But I'm dumb smart, so they call me Rain Man Wait -- if I'm smart, why'd I give away all of my songs for a song? I'm not as smart as I say, damn So while you look cool in your Ray-Bans I'm still in Broakland where I'm coolin' like a fan I'm cool with my eight fans I'm on my way up I stay up like the tray table is when the plane lands We make jams for the layman The everyday person who can't stand the B.S., and P.S. Rec-League, and I know we're fresh Yo, it ain't no contest Chorus Bridge: Damn... And I don't need a love like that 'Cuz they told me they love my track And they want me to call right back All I got was a dial tone Man... But the hate only made me stronger Why you think that I make these songs for? I remember the days that you long for When hip-hop was a cultural milestone... Yo, I had a dream last night, it was crazy Industry rule number four thousand and eighty These labels all hate me My girl had to shake me to wake me I screamed out "Don't let 'em take me!" Chorus
6.
Verse 1: Get a grip, spit like a chainsaw, I let ‘er rip Bitch, I don’t even own a suitcase—I never trip Ask how we settle it? That's how we settle it. Take your tape out and straight mash out instead of it Step aside, act like you seen us before, recognize George Washington with the flow, son, I never lie Turn the flash on, dog, I'm never shy, catch a wide Shot of the wreckin' ball y'all 'bout to get leveled by Let it ride, rappers really need to stop buggin’ like pesticide Before they see stars like the Enterprise Pennin’ my music for rappers to get offended by I'm feelin' your single but mostly the instrumental side I don’t like any side, both were the worst That’s why I been insulting your work for the bulk of my verse Just dig a hole in the dirt, homie, ya’ losin’, it's a global alert, Scoviet Union takin’ over the earth So you can make some noise, ain’t a raw beat that we can’t destroy All week tossin out words like a paperboy Newsflash, every single rapper in your crew's trash Every single rapper in my crew shine like Doom's mask Move fast Fall back Gimme room Pause track... The beat do what I tell it to do -- boss rap Tight like a watch strap honest like Abe in a top hat Gettin’ tore up like my contract Chorus: Rap Shit, I know all about that shit Rap Shit, I know all about that shit Rap Shit, I know all about that shit Yo, yo, I'm all about that shit Rap Shit, I know all about that shit Rap Shit, I know all about that shit Rap Shit, I know all about that shit So, so, so holler 'bout that shit Verse 2: Run it back, gimme the mic, Yo, I aint done with that Old school shit that you can feel like a rumble pack Y’all need to stop, turn around like a cul de sac That a-way Better take off like a Saturday Stay at home, sit and take notes on my greatest songs Second thought? Wait, better not, that would take too long Way too long, I don’t waste time like the internet In the Rec, ever since Richie wasn’t in it yet Yo, lemme interject, Cunny done been a vet Striped up Doin' more shows than a Cineplex Frisco is in effect, Grip told 'em hit the deck, It's a threat Bad for your health like a cigarette Light 'em up, Lighters up, Go'n call the fire truck Try your luck, every rhyme [BING!] like the Midas touch Golden gate Alcatraz flow so it’s no escape Yeah, we got records, son Rap sheets and stolen breaks Roll the tape That's how you motivate Rich, if your flow is fake That's how you know it ain’t Grip Yo, we on the same shit, Same click Same attitude Word is bond, kid, I’m the eyes that’s in back of you Likewise, son, I got ya' back, left, and right side Rec is in the building Straight up like a high-rise We on the way up like a high five You on the way down So you oughta stay down like a drive by Chorus: Rap Shit, I know all about that shit Rap Shit, I know all about that shit Rap Shit, I know all about that shit Yo, yo, I'm all about that shit Rap Shit, I know all about that shit Rap Shit, I know all about that shit Rap Shit, I know all about that shit So, so, so how about that shit?
7.
02:53
I'ma beat up the mic like a boxer do I can't teach you to speak like a Cockatoo You gotta learn on your own, man, what the fuck's wrong with you? I gotta whole 'nother song to do Flow exactly the way that I wanted to Meet the mic in the booth for a rendezvous On the move, rap fast, I can't afford to snooze A job I can't afford to lose Yeah, I saw the news from the fortress of solitude Superman got a lot to prove Of your bullshit rap I do not approve I'ma snap the cassette if it's not removed I got records that you couldn't hope to break I been rappin' since you were your folks' mistake Host the tape, "Grip Grand presents How to Go for Broke" Fuck around, get your flow revoked Chorus Verse 2: It's like that, y'all When I start to rap Grip Grand put the heart in a heart attack Rec-League make a song that you want to slap Smash the mic, here, I don't want it back Clap clap, applause for a flow with the mouth of Jaws An animal whippin' out the claws I'm the boss, but some days it feels like I lost my watch What I mean is, my timing's off I'm makin' progress, it ain't a contest I shut down shows like I made a bomb threat I get on the mic, man, they're astonished I'm rarely seen like I'm Hailey's Comet I came this far, I would hate to stop it The game ain't Tag, I'm afraid you're not "It" Straight up, you're not Grip I got shit dialed like a fuckin' cockpit Chorus
8.
04:09
Verse 1: Yo, the red light means stop, if it’s flashing it means cop, Caught ‘em red handed with the rhyme tryin’ to eavesdrop Red dawn, red sky at morning like warning A shiny red apple that reveals a rare poison Exploitin’—push the red button over nothin’ We say, the only Red Alert I wanna hear is the DJ You better get to work on the replay You couldn’t sell it for a red cent on the Ebay Red faced, embarrassed 'cuz all of the red tape You put up couldn’t stay or delay my escape I appeal to the voters in blue or red state It’s a red letter day, unload the dead weight Wore the red badge of courage, the red mask of death Red sun in the East, red rain in the West Took the red eye to jet from one place to the next 'Til my record done seen more plays than a ref Chorus: Whatever you want, we got it Whatever you need, we got it Whatever I do, Red Alert Whenever my crew...Red Alert Whatever you want, we got it Whatever you need, we got it Whatever I do, Red Alert Whenever my crew...Red Alert Verse 2: I’ma paint the town red until all the wack rappers found dead Or in a bed at the Red Cross instead I’ma drop a red herring, throw the dogs off the scent Yo, roll out the red carpet, there’s a star on the set I got hip-hop in my red blood cells But I’m still in the red I don’t get 'nuff sales Which should be a red flag, no one said that life’s fair and It could all get shot down like the Red Baron Preparin’ for rhymers from here to Red China I redline the track 'til you have to rewind the Last rhyme that I say, it gets better each time ya' Bring it back to the start like Herc and Bambaataa Red dot or red beam, both winnin’ points for the red team Cryin’ fake tears at the death scene Cryin’ "REDRUM" at the next scene to get green And put a motherfucker on ice like the Red Wings Chorus Verse 3: In the blue, white, red you get your rights read Take it back to that chain gang rap like Shinehead When the Scoviet Union unleash the Red Army, at least we said sorry The Rec is all over the street like dead bodies You know it’s too late Red October Halloween pitchforks and red capes Yes, I sent grapes out of town on Fed Ex Peter Tosh in the mail, Steppin’ Razor Red X Red stamp, insufficient funds on my rent check On some Jeff Foxworthy, you might be a redneck On some Redd Foxx, dirty, I ain’t clean it up yet I came back upset like a Vietnam vet I said if you can’t see me then raise the red lantern The new scarlet letter is G, for Grip Grand, son Red hot, it can only get hotter Like a handgun goin’ through shells like Red Lobster
9.
00:34
10.
04:17
Chorus: Go outside and play Like it was a Saturday We gon' get it y'all We gon' get it y'all We gon' get it and get it until we get it all Go outside and play It’s another sunny day We gon' get it y'all We gon' get it y'all We gon' get it and get it until we win it all Verse 1: Hallelujah, the waitin’ is done Have a fun time, unwind, play in the sun I know you don’t ever play when it comes To doin’ [“Hey!”] for the funds But live your life, son, you only get one And get smart, too, the rest of y’all only get dumb Which ain’t wrong, play the song, man, you know we get dumb But at the same time, I been on the grapevine Talkin’ I’ma make mine march to a different drum My name's right on the tip of your tongue -- Grip We give 'em a run, for their money like a greyhound race I wake up with a blunt and I stay out late While my career’s in a slump gettin’ straight-out raped Pour a beer out for those who don’t play our tape It’s your funeral, hope you like flowers and shit All praise to myself by the power of Grip Sha', let the beat build like a pile of bricks, and let's... Chorus: Go outside and play Like it was a Saturday We gon’ get it y’all We gon’ get it y’all We gon’ get it and get it until we get it all Go outside and play It’s another sunny day We gon’ get it y’all We gon’ get it y'all You know who I hate, man? Lames Lames? Verse 2: Lames I won’t say no names This ain’t PE, bitch, I don’t play no games So? So? We came to conquer the globe I spit flame like the range on the top of your stove You keep rockin’ a role that you stole from the top of the polls I’m just bein’ myself Are you cool with the fact that your album is wack? Man, it won’t ever be on my shelf I can’t believe what I see I’m trying to build, you would think I was writin’ my will ‘Cuz everybody’s like “Leave it to me” But they all cash the check, then their asses quit If I’m upset, I got reason to be I just wanna recoup iIt’s hard times, walk a mile in my boots Aubrey O’Day, I got kicked out of the group Now I’m out on my own, but I still wild out on a poem Until I get kicked out of the booth, then I… Chorus Verse 3: Hallelujah, we finally arrived, it was times I thought the sun wouldn’t find me alive But then another day turns to another day Turns to another day now, and somehow we survived And it’s rough when you just can’t provide for the fam I need a lifeline, and I don’t mean the palm of my hand At the door I said “I’m in the band” They still told me to step I’m like “F that, it’s time for a stand” It’s time for a plan, I’ve got an idea or two This is real life, not like you see in the news It’s unfiltered and raw, file under "Hip-hop" in the store But it still might give you the blues And it feels like a change in the weather, we all in together We better start rowin’ for shore And I know it for sure, if you wanna walk up to the sun All you gotta do is open the door, and just… Chorus
11.
04:03
Chorus: Everywhere we go, when they see us they smile They know they gonna see a "Oh!!" they ain’t seen in a while So in the street or at a show, all you hear is the sound, they say Aye, aye, aye, it’s goin’ down Everywhere we go, we get nothin’ but pounds They know they gonna see a "Oh!!" that ain’t messin’ around So in the street or at a show, all you hear is the sound, they say Aye, aye, aye, it’s goin’ down! Verse 1: If you want it, you can get it I should yell surprise because I’m not what you expected Told ‘em I’m your pusher then I offered you a record Can I talk to you a second? The name is Rec-League, it’s time we start wreckin’ Yo, I got that one and only I know it’s certified because I got that from my homie Yeah, you heard about me ‘cuz I rock that microphon-e While y’all are like baloney I come from San Francisco like I’m fuckin’ Rice-a-Roni I am nothin’ like a loser Lampin’ in the motherfuckin’ sun, it’s like Aruba Jamaica, Bermuda, Bahama I smoke Mary J, no more drama All cheers, so the crowd is all ears like Obama I’ma push it to the threshold Higher than my speed is when my foot is to the pedal I gotta keep on pushing, said that I would never settle I want the gold medal ‘Cuz rap nowadays is a cause with no rebels Chorus Verse 2: If you hear it then you’ll like it Music that’ll make you see the future like a psychic We are superheroes, sucker, you are just a sidekick I’m sharper than a ice pick Tag the microphone with marker and fuckin’ write "Grip" If you want a wack MC, then don’t invite Grip I am strictly illy The only way I’m ever quittin’ rap is if they kill me And even then I’ll still be A ghostwriter rhymin’ on the beat from A Milli When the Rec is in the buildin’ We are goin’ dumb with one exception—when I’m chillin’ Me, I roll a blunt and kick my feet up to the ceiling Dream about a million For now, all I got is a couple of gold fillings On the real, I been proactive When the record drop alotta cats’ll say "So that’s it? Yeah, it was OK, but on the whole it’s no Illmatic." I guess it’s not a classic Well, sorry, then I better be out…I gotta practice Chorus Verse 3: You know Grip is not complacent I been makin’ moves and makin’ music in the basement Watchin’ number one while I maneuver to replace it Remix and rearrange it And make it permanent so these haters can never change it I been sittin’ on a goldmine Spittin’ all these hits the critics didn’t wanna co-sign Now I’m gonna hang ‘em out to dry like it’s a clothesline Stick ‘em like a rose vine Rec-League rappers say it’s no time like go time
12.
03:41
Verse 1: This game, rules changed, they want it free now This ain’t a cipher, they want a free style? Money all gone like, we need a bailout Holler at the postman, we need a mail route Stimulus check (check), we need a payout Grip to the rescue, we need a safehouse Old rapper pensions, new rapper lessons Throw your hands up like you have a question Make a new plan and I do have suggestions Razorblade flow, I, too, have a weapon Make or break, yo, I’ma kill it, no messin’ Overdub the tape and erase your whole session Get a brand new look with a different aesthetic Dead it! It won’t go away like bad credit Forget it, Broakland's no vacation Get merc'd where you live like home invasion Chorus: They all fall down They all fall down They all fall down They all fall down Verse 2: This life ain’t fair, who wrote the rulebook? I put my name on the shit like a school book Who took the blame for the fact that today Everything is way lamer? That’s a game changer Man, y’all been puttin’ my job in grave danger Money all spent but you didn’t buy Grip Yo, it’s awful when they all drop you It’s not cool I paid my dues but it didn’t buy shit! Now I’m back where I used to be, not where I’d choose to be Delf style, recordin’ for myself now exclusively Stressin’, Mel Gibson, Lethal Weapon Now which motherfucker wanna jump off the roof with me? The same old, same old, blah blah et cetera Rap’s in a drought and it don’t fill the reservoir It seems big dreams don’t fill the register I’ll tell the truth but don’t shoot the messenger Chorus Verse 3: This scheme, that scheme, who got it mapped out? This team all about dope like a crackhouse Go write a rap ‘bout how I get stoned ‘til I black out While I throw stones in a glass house Who gives one fuck? They the minority To all of y’all, honestly, thanks for supportin’ me To everybody else I say thanks for ignorin’ me And forcin’ me to get a new show like Kimora Lee New deal: no deal, no album, no song No cost, so it’s no loss when it goes wrong No market, no labels, no lawyer fees No product, no advance, and no royalties No more promotion, no distribution Download it free so there’s no need to boost it Consume it then forget it when you’re gettin’ more new shit When artists start starvin’ to death, no music Chorus
13.
03:04
Verse 1: Listen up, you know just what the tough do when the gettin’s tough We get goin’, I kept flowin’ when life was on some “Give it up” Did it suck? Yes it did, it was rough, I will admit as much Did a fuckin’ song every minute the critics didn't touch Did enough rappin’ to wonder if it’s gonna happen but No one could make me wrap it up, say it’s a day and pack it up Throw it away and back it up. Quit and get real with it? This is real, I’m ‘bout to snap and fuckin’ get militant But no, I keep it on the low before I O.D. I hold the pain inside like the bottle around an O.E. I wanna drain my eyes, these tears, they overflowin’ But they say that a man ain’t supposed to cry, how can I show it? So I wrote it with the pen but the pad was too small to hold it Never noticed. Even if I had italicized and bolded Every quote I ever spoke and blown it up just like the slogan On a billboard, they would still forget the flow, so it’s a no-win No it ain’t no point in holdin’ my breath, I know I’m talented The flow, I fuckin’ wrote it to death, no one can challenge it I found that it just doesn’t make a difference what you're spittin’ If it’s different, ain’t no one wanna listen and say they down with it Now is it pitiful that you was scrapin’ by While other rappers make it, when their talent’s invisible to the naked eye? They can try and hold me. That’s all I’ma say is they can try… I take ‘em to the motherfuckin’ edge and see if they can fly And when it turns out they can’t? I guess the story is done Like Icarus who flew too close to the sun I used to do the music, too, ‘cuz it was s’posed to be fun It’s disappointing when you ain’t the star you s’posed to become They trying to cut my career off like a tourniquet You say I have a gift, and yet I swear sometimes I wish I could return the shit But it’ll all be worth it if Grip is the last man standing at the tournament I’m married to the music now, it’s permanent But what if I flop, what if I stop, what if you’re hot But no one hear y’all? When my tree fall, do it make a noise or not? I find it hard to keep goin’ when every second is a struggle And the best still need to hustle for a check, what does that tell you? Yo, the game is fucked, no wonder all these rappers gone and gave it up Pull the plug out on they fuckin’ microphone and hang it up I’m changin’ up my grip on the bat, I’m doin’ different things The only way you get a hit’s if you swing I told my girl I was thinkin’ about quittin’ She looked me in the eye like “Bitch, is you bullshittin'? If this is your real mission, pursue it within an inch of your life They try to boo it, say fuck ‘em and keep spittin'” I keep Grippin’, already ready, steady, get set I’m ‘bout to turn the microphone into confetti then jet I could rap ‘til the beat drops, and still fuckin' rap on a beatbox I rap ‘til the fuckin’ CD [stops]

about

Explicit Lyrics

credits

released November 25, 2011

Beats produced by DJ MF Shalem/S. Bencivenga for JAY GEE LIVES THROUGH ME ASCAP. Rhymes written, recorded, and performed by Grip Grand for BROAKLAND MUSIC, BMI

license

all rights reserved

tags

If you like Rewinder, you may also like: