The Grits (featuring 8-Off) (feat. 8-OFF)

This album right here, this is the yin and the yang

So you gon' hear a lot of different things on it

You gon' hear a lot of profanity

You might hear a lot of, um, a lot of love, a lot of hate

You know what I'm sayin', 'cause it's like, come on

I got enemies, I got frenemies, and those that pretend to be

I'm a side hill

That's the grits

The grits

The barracks, baby, word up

Verrazano Bridge, yo, yo

I give a speech like Martin Luther King

Let freedom ring, forget a gold ring

It's a black thing

Holdin' me locked up, where brothers be gettin' oxed up

Takin' life for granted

Most of us abandoned

How I know you not a clone?

Beef in the home

Africans, protect black Americans

Dominicans, war with the Puerto Ricans

Deep in the street, thugs carryin' heat

Infest the projects, surrounded with gates

Middle class families are movin' upstate

While the younger generation sellin' cake

Tryin' to imitate mixtapes

It's all vinyl, big locks on the Verrazano

Confined, BB conduct, on some King Tut

Poverty struck, I seen it like an empty U-Haul truck

My cup runneth over, stressed out whenever I'm sober

This cold world got my girl scammed

Fight on the sand, I'm allergic to hands

Weak minds all aboard

I see devils in the eyes of camcord

And my reward is to let y'all know

I'm goin' out like P.L.O. whenever I go, uh

The grits

The grits

I start the slaughterin', make all eyes start waterin'

I know a 800 number, you can get your coffin, start orderin'

The metamorphosis of my skill is sure to bring

Overcome any king, fakin' and counterfeit, money in the bank

I do a sting with two nines under my sling

Anybody you bring, still won't do a goddamn thing

You ain't nothin' but a onion in the ring

I floss rhymes, I lost rhymes

I got it like that, y'all bitch niggas, I toss time

I got rhymes that'll still rock you, cats that'll spot you

Told you I chill, lay off of shit, still shot you

The only thing I'm unable to do is do what I got to

Lookin' hostile, Brooklyn apostle, lyrical gospel

Still fortunate to scorchin' shit, payin' for the cost of it

Your whole style remains wack, I know it's awful, kid

The grits

The grits

The grits

The grits

Yo, I play the back like back in the days

Give thanks and praise, watch the frisk raise

Reunite, J-Bird teach the upright

I forget the fake MCs, my songs the Bible

Survival in the land of lost land

No radio play, the Pillagers banned

Like a foreigner don't understand

Y'all some fat cats, eat the pig

We make real shit from digs

Hit you up with the packages of facts on tracks

Y'all talk, but that's put that back

We dealin' in the orphanage, ways to pass your image

I'm a chemist, a jeweled dentist

Treat my heritance like friendship

I be exit, I rock a gold necklace and restless

It's always hectic, Staten Island shit

Bad habit shit, made me twisted

120 District shit, Pillagers be the senate

Throw darts like Masons, garment Renaissance

Patriarchs, hold the blood like tampons

BB conduct, put your fist up

No more struggles, hundred dollar for the Hen-dog

Two hundred for the bubbles, less troubles

Pill age, push over, turn rappers off of the stage

It's beef whenever we engage

Buck, buck, buck, buck, buck, buck

The grits

The grits

The grits

The grits

The grits