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bukshot - grime lyrics

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[verse 1: bukshot]
idle hands are the devil’s workshop
prepare to deliver him the ones who turned pop
push ’em off the ledge into flames
they couldn’t take the heat, hip+hop was to blame
tried to stay awake, yeah, i tried to leave
but music’s like a drug, this is what i need
i’ma turn beast every time i hear a drum kick
lookin’ for a reason, call it gain of function
i was on the mic ever since a young kid
livin’ in the studio every night hustlin’
drugs in the trunk, heater on my waistline
breakin’ my neck to a snare and a bassline
livin’ fast and furious doing this
betrayed by the streets like a judas kiss
with bad taste but not enough to break me (i made it!)
and that’s the reason most of y’all hate me (they ain’t me!)

[chorus: bukshot]
been through h+ll but i never left though
want it all, watch me take it like a klepto
wicked mob plan, writin’ these rhymes
look at my hands, look at that grime
no cosign, never had an intro
just some hustle and a banging instrumental
wicked mob plan, writin’ these rhymes
look at my hands, look at that grime
[verse 2: bukshot]
made some enemies, made some friends
broke laws, committed sins
hip+hop made me do it at the end of it
so are they blind to what i’m doin’ or just ignorant?
petty fans who won’t jump in the rumble pit
all this mumble sh+t came forth with the rumblefish
mess around, you’ll be found up in a dumpster, b+tch
where i’m from make the louisville slugger wish
your favorite rapper’s on dope and he’s your idol
used to be my homie but now we just rivals
like f+ck it, it was never meant to be
keep it real! i wouldn’t want to be my enemy (nah!)
you don’t want to deal with the kamikaze
life gon’ flash like a mob of paparazzi
paid the cost! it don’t matter what the toll is
when i catch you slippin’ blame it on the showbiz

[chorus: bukshot]
been through h+ll but i never left though
want it all, watch me take it like a klepto
wicked mob plan, writin’ these rhymes
look at my hands, look at that grime
no cosign, never had an intro
just some hustle and a banging instrumental
wicked mob plan, writin’ these rhymes
look at my hands, look at that grime



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