Gripping Grain

Motherfucking Mo City Don bitch

Yeah, I know y'all hate the way we stare at y'all face

Rap game phenomenon, lyrically I drop bombs

With feddy up in my palms, and I show you why I'm the Don

Z-Ro the soldier, with a chip on my shoulder

I get you if I owe you, X your file like Scully and Mulder

Colder with the pen pimping thang, fuck bringing it to your ass

Me and that boy Den Den, gon bring it to your brain

Sit back get it together, take a chill really sit back

When I'm on swangas never hear no noise, cause them hoes don't click-clack

I'm thinking thoed about to unload, on anything that don't mind

Slapping patches up out your hair, better say better somebody to find

Straight up and down and rap flawn, these jackers ain't on

That's why I skip the slab, and I move straight to foreign

Everybody has collided with The Screwed Up Click

And when I pick up the mic and I go off, they say how he do that shit

I'm a mic wrecker, about to checkmate like checkers

A pine breasher, with 25 bags of light green on my dresser

Gripping grain, my screen is gonna fall like rain

Cause I get my-my grind and my-my shine on, I'm balling

Crawling in the turning lane, we tipping and we earning mayn

Cause we get our-our grind and our-our shine on, we hauling

Gripping grain on the feeter, switching lanes with Aaliyah

Top down low to the ground, car looking completed

Balling hard like Kobe, put two inches on tobe

Pack a seventeen shot, hope a nigga don't provoke me

Cars they smoking, with herbal incent

Mashing horses flipping tortoise, candy up like sip

Beat the toll for a dolla, as I smash right under

On the passenger of me, riding underground under

I ponder in the game, passing laws gripping grain

Screens fall like rain, leaving puddles and stains

For my grind be major, hit me on two way pager

All my tools there's a later, for a safe place hater

So when you see me in them streets, you best bow down

I'm gripping grain causing pain, hold it down H-Town

Like a king or a chief, I'm blowing endo sweets

Saving my change pushing my Range, starched up looking sweet

Gripping grain, my screen is gonna fall like rain

Cause I get my-my grind and my-my shine on, I'm balling

Crawling in the turning lane, we tipping and we earning mayn

Cause we get our-our grind and our-our shine on, we hauling

Twelve inches of dope, candy coat gon float

Got a beach house in Galveston, with woofers on bump

And we gon choke on smoke, and swallow drank as we sail

Atlantic Ocean the Pacific, man I'm making my mail

From selling yale to record sales, to fatten our pocket

Murdering motherfuckers on wax, can't nobody can stop it

With the checks and a black X, and a rolex make niggas check

Got my nose wide open, smelling nothing but plex

I get deep like a dimple, complicated but simple

From rags to riches on these bitches, Screwed Up medallion with a symbol

Ain't no mo' chains and pieces, for my nephews and nieces

When the record stores get empty, my ass get money increases

You can't walk on my lawn, better leave my Vipor alone

Got a house in Sweet Water Texas, Lexus and a pond with a swan

They call me a swanga not a diss, I broke up on and made her bitch

Now affiliated on a candy coated yacht, eating on shrimp fish

Straight Profit, taking over and you can't stop it

Cause we get our-our grind and our-our shine on, we balling

Crawling in the turning lane, we tipping and we earning mayn

Cause we get our-our grind and our-our shine on, we hauling

Gripping grain, grind on and my-my shine on

Turning lane