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reggie rude - grippy part ii lyrics

[skit]
man 1: is that my cousin cobain?
man 2: +sucks t++th+ man, that ain’t no cobain man
man 3: d+mn, that might just be cobain
man 1: at the door, is that my cousin cobain right there?
man 2: cobain don’t come around here, he don’t like us like that n+gga
man 3:yo look outside
man 1: baby+
man 2: oh sh+t…
man 3: look outside, that’s him n+gga
ma 1: tell me the truth now, is that my cousin cobain? i haven’t seen him in years baby
man 2: oh sh+t, that might be cobain
man 3: that’s+ that’s him bro, that’s cobain
man 2: that might be cobain
man 1: well, if that is him at the door, let that n+gga in

[chorus: cobain]
i wake up and i make money automatic
i love my life, that’s why i keep my automatic
all the food up on the plate, i had to grab it
i just asked this b+tch for top, she let me have it
when they say they making money, i start laughing
just hit 150 on the highway, i ain’t crash it
turn the dirty money clеan, then i look lavish
turn the dirty money clеan, then i look lavish
[verse 1: cobain]
i just told my mama i’mma make her mad rich
i’m from new york, so i don not say “no cappin'”
her ass is fat so i tell her make it clap then
that’s my reaction, she start reacting
i wake up then i make money automatic
i love my life, that’s why i keep my automatic
all the food up on the plate, i had to grab it
i just asked this b+tch for top, she let me+

[verse 2: reggie rude]
(bia bia)
you see the gauge? that sh+t knee high
(yeah)
ready to pop a rapper talking sl!ck up on his b+sides
(woo!)
you know i’m hungry, why you flashing jewels like you the god?
immaculate you wound up in my trap like some filas
this ain’t the 80s n+gga
i pop a cat that think he crack, no running fades n+gga
i ain’t a barber, get you clipped for the pay n+gga
you know we starving, showing off for your page n+gga?
it’s instant grams when we starving, we selling weight n+gga
pop ya, when you pop up papa, ain’t no stopping
when we block a shotta, we ain’t on the court real bodies dropping
stop it, when you cop it, we relay the profit
feed the fam’ while you gossip on them records how we flossing
look there’s losses, brother died up on the corner over forces
that they forced up in his eyes on those commercials that we tossed in
to relate to us, this no game to us, this sh+t dangerous
i played the cut, read up on my books, but that didn’t pay enough
so i blaze the dust, give me your cable tucked
watch how i grab the gun
i’m aiming up, if you try to run, i blaze you up
you faking funk
you ain’t part of us, you just want the clout
you hating us, you apart of them, so i need it all, hand it up
[chorus: cobain]
i wake up and i make money automatic
i love my life, that’s why i keep my automatic
all the food up on the plate, i had to grab it
i just asked this b+tch for top, she let me have it
when they say they making money, i start laughing
just hit 150 on the highway, i ain’t crash it
turn the dirty money clean, then i look lavish
turn the dirty money clean, then i look lavish

- reggie rude lyrics

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