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grip - bootleg kev freestyle lyrics

[verse]
look, i stay in my bag like a b+tch with a broke n+gga
slow sipper, less chaser, more liquor
flow sicker, grows figures while they post pictures
flow the holy ghost, allow me to quote scriptures
riddle me this, who is iller than i?
you couldn’t walk in my shoes, here, give it a try
you silly insinuating you got a ceiling this high
where i’m from, to make a living you got to be willin’ to die
the villainous guy, junkie, functional alcoholic
shaking you by the ankles ’til you come up off your wallet
you fell of so you made excuses and your fans bought it
but if you ain’t finna sh+t, get the f+ck up off your toilet
if not i’m on my way to drop a t+rd in your yard
in broad day done takе a saw+blade to your burglar bars
grabbin’ you, draggin’ you through the crib, headеd to the door
got you clawin’ ’til your fingernails embedded in the floor
you don’t understand my hunger, you ain’t never been this poor
went from bein’ heavenly ignored to schedulin’ a tour
it was a rough grind through tough times
dark stark in batter
heart was shattered, now i’m on tracks with marshall mathers
beast mode, used to sneak mamas cheap old van
couldn’t sleep though, on the lookout for the repo man
i keep the heat ho, but’ll beat your ass if we throw hands
he want a verse, he came with seven, i need three more bands
n+gga had one hot summer so they spun him a sequel
sh+t flopped, they on top until they plummet beneath you
n+gga fumbled it, now he’s stumblin’ in my dms like “bro, what’s a good number to reach you?”
these [?] shouldn’t make you vomit, n+ggas stomach is feeble
don’t get ate, i’m number eight when he was runnin’ with diesel
it shouldn’t free throw mcs, no i ain’t one of your equals
ridin’ with four guns in the regal, none of them legal
a lot of n+ggas boast, a lot of n+ggas brag
these raps’ll probably leave your body with a tag, sh+t
i been the problem, sh+t i’m jottin’ in the pack
got ’em checkin’ for me like fries at the bottom of the bag
quick to fiction tell ’em we don’t buy the sh+t you sellin’
i kick it with convicted felons that’ll split your melon
you made the coffin, now i just got to stick the nail in
international s+x symbol, i got b+tches yellin’ grip that’s bae
trip is strap spray, listen lil’ man i don’t care what your raps say
i’m wicked as slavery, spit at your lady, whip a mercedez
white with cream interior, biscuit and gravy
tunnel vision is crazy, none of the disses’ll faze me
em said i was next, y’all better listen to shady
“they signed him, oh my god, why, how come?”
quit askin’ questions b+tch, go listen to the album

- grip lyrics

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