"But Anyway"
Written and Produced by Grip Grand/ G. Winogrond for Broakland Music, BMI
(Adlibs)
Verse 1:
Now I'm a flash-flood flow-er and a fast mud thrower
Who's known to always fill his "raps-ripped-a-month" quota.
I'll just have a club soda. I'm over the hill.
In a few years I'll be a pioneer like Buffalo Bill.
f*** it, I still keep the mic tucked,
Got the right stuff.
Empty wallet with a "Free Grip" b***on...nice touch!
Life sucks just as much as it's beautiful.
Grip came to brighten yours up like a plant a plant in your cubicle.
Suitable for framin', put my name in the Hall of Fame with
A dollar and a dream's all I came with.
Blame it on the rain, or the game, or the matrix,
It's all the same s*** that I'm out to crush.
I stay fresh, dressed like a thousand bucks.
Don't f*** with Grip Grand, man, his album sucks!
Yo, scout's honor. I'm on some lo-fi and don't care a bit.
Folks know my broke flow-don't go repairin' it!
(Chorus)
Verse 2:
Let's spit the real raw sound.
Grip never lost bouts.
This is big things like your boss' house!
Phenomenal, you're in awe of me, aren't you?
A breakthrough performance like Nas at the barbeque!
Grip get it p***to.
Your style is so herb,
You should put it on tacos and call it cilantro.
You're just another notch in my rhyme-book spine.
Get your own super-rap pill, 'cuz I took mine!
Now I do my own stunts, like light my own blunts.
You're a sucker, you never touch the microphone once.
In a place you really don't wanna go, like graveyards,
I don't even have to Phil the Agony to Train Hard.
I got some programs, chopped some slow jams,
Rock the mic like I'm holdin' my heart in both hands!
Grip don't need a chain to shine,
'Cuz every time I say a rhyme, I'm hangin' a danger sign!
Like...
(Chorus)
Written and Produced by Grip Grand/ G. Winogrond for Broakland Music, BMI
(Adlibs)
Verse 1:
Now I'm a flash-flood flow-er and a fast mud thrower
Who's known to always fill his "raps-ripped-a-month" quota.
I'll just have a club soda. I'm over the hill.
In a few years I'll be a pioneer like Buffalo Bill.
f*** it, I still keep the mic tucked,
Got the right stuff.
Empty wallet with a "Free Grip" b***on...nice touch!
Life sucks just as much as it's beautiful.
Grip came to brighten yours up like a plant a plant in your cubicle.
Suitable for framin', put my name in the Hall of Fame with
A dollar and a dream's all I came with.
Blame it on the rain, or the game, or the matrix,
It's all the same s*** that I'm out to crush.
I stay fresh, dressed like a thousand bucks.
Don't f*** with Grip Grand, man, his album sucks!
Yo, scout's honor. I'm on some lo-fi and don't care a bit.
Folks know my broke flow-don't go repairin' it!
(Chorus)
Verse 2:
Let's spit the real raw sound.
Grip never lost bouts.
This is big things like your boss' house!
Phenomenal, you're in awe of me, aren't you?
A breakthrough performance like Nas at the barbeque!
Grip get it p***to.
Your style is so herb,
You should put it on tacos and call it cilantro.
You're just another notch in my rhyme-book spine.
Get your own super-rap pill, 'cuz I took mine!
Now I do my own stunts, like light my own blunts.
You're a sucker, you never touch the microphone once.
In a place you really don't wanna go, like graveyards,
I don't even have to Phil the Agony to Train Hard.
I got some programs, chopped some slow jams,
Rock the mic like I'm holdin' my heart in both hands!
Grip don't need a chain to shine,
'Cuz every time I say a rhyme, I'm hangin' a danger sign!
Like...
(Chorus)