Grammy

This is thought for food
Get it nigga, get it

Hand me your Grammy nigga
Thought for food

Yo, pipe face, axe face, rubberband police chase
Heroin needle briefcase, a city need face
Gats face, faggot legs like Dave Maggot
Loose leaf, tight beef lean, cancer addict

Cold case, no face, stole bank rolls, thanks
Expose shanks, export blanks, fake thug ranks
Take drugs in basement clubs, come outside and shoot 'em down
Grow 'em down with the pound, ready on the ground

Like whirlwind, girls pearlsmen between limb
Rock them brims, jump in skins, pump the shins
Fatigue rock, we see clock, before we need stop
Respiration, best rock vest for less patience

A metal rocking for pocket locking, broccoli set
Where chain on bill fold, fold bills, two-fold
Old grimmace haze can break a witness face
Dead life in the headlight, vehicular homicide sight

C.S.I, speeding eye, see through seeping lies
Weak disguise guys, crack the bone above your eyes
Concrete of wars, a block as I world tours
Gun totes, spleen pokes, stab so vicious

Criminal intent, where law and order is missing
Movie subscription, steadily horror flick admission
Corners, alleys, homes, tenements in prisons

Life in Detroit, Atlanta, made in Havana
D.C, catch street bullets in your bandana
Watchtower like clock tower, my hands is ansy
Fuck the weak MC's, stab you with your own Grammies

I feel like this one
If I got to get at somebody again
Ain't gon' be no cuttin'
I'ma, I mean, I know
Know I'm facing eight years for bullshit cuttin'
That's bad, I mean
If I'm gon' serve time for something
The more time I get next time it's gon' be for