grip grand – hip-hop classic lyrics
(adlibs)
verse 1:
i’m from the west coast, but i ain’t a felon or thug.
i stay in fresh mode. rappin’ is a h-ll of a drug.
if you see the fam, tell ’em it’s love that kept me in
the lab,
outta touch, on the grind, sellin’ my blood
in cds and lps, mixtape appearances…
kids say they waitin’ for that grip plate, and here it
is.
take it serious. they said it’s time to build?
well stand back and watch grip make the pyramids.
when i was a kid i had a tape of “delirious”.
it was hilarious. sorta like your style,
which is why you’re embarr-a-ssed, file under “various
artists whose songs sound…when compared to this”.
i couldn’t care a bit. i’ve tooken care of it,
and got the compet-tion lookin’ for a therapist.
it’ll prob’ly take a couple of sessions.
wait, tell the doctor that i got a couple of questions,
like…
chorus:
i’m tryin’ to make a hip-hop cl-ssic, so tell me what
that is,
tell me what that is.
it isn’t somethin’ you could sell in a package,
but is it somethin’ you could tell if you have it?
i think i started to develop a habit.
i said i’m tryin’ to make a hip-hop cl-ssic, so tell me
what that is,
tell me what that is.
it isn’t somethin’ you could sell in a package,
but is it somethin’ you could tell if you have it?
i tried to tell ’em i’m a h-ll of an addict…
verse 2:
here we go, low budget like matinees.
take your fronts out—tom hanks, “castaway”,
that’s your face. rap is great, no debates.
no mistakes, grip ride with no b-brakes.
yo yo! big things, call me overweight. hope to make
hits like the oakland a’s.
long time, work hard, get no r-raise,
no p-praise, boss say you’re overpaid.
in broakland, where i make my stand,
they cut the water and the power off.
how i’m ‘posed to make my jams?
or rap fresh even if i ain’t bathed for days?
don’t make me laugh, like “hkk-hkk-hkk!” flavor flav!
pay to play. bay sh-t like taydatay,
i’m from the league—rec league, not the jla.
we all drink, smoke, quote “in a major way”,
and we don’t hate taxes—we don’t pay that sh-t.
(chorus)
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