God’s the seamstress that tailor-fitted my pain.
You can do all them push-ups to pump up your chest,
I got a 12 gauge Mossberg to pump up your chest,
Have you gasping for air after that shell hit your vest.
Fear me like you fear God, ‘cause I bring death.
People say, ‘Grimm, you’ve been shot like 50.
So why don’t you just rhyme like 50?
Then, you could get the money like 50,
Otherwise, before you see success…you’ll be 50.’
Your new CD is a weed plate, nothin’ but love songs,
100% pure garbage, just something to break up buds on.
Sunny days wouldn’t be special…if it wasn’t for rain.
Joy wouldn’t feel so good…if it wasn’t for pain.
Death gotta be easy, ‘cause life is hard,
It’ll leave you physically, mentally, and emotionally scarred.
Hate a liar more than I hate a thief.
A thief is only after my salary,
A liar is after my reality.
What’s poppin? My gun on ya head, nigga.
What’s crackin? The bones in ya head, nigga.
What’s really good? Nothin but the doe.
What’s really hood? You already know.
Different day, same shit, ain’t nothing good in the hood,
I’d run away from this bitch and never come back, if I could.