Grip Grand 96 Tears (mf Shalem's Talk About It Mix)
"96 Tears (MF Shalem's Talk About It Mix)"
Written by Grip Grand/G. Winogrond for Broakland Music,
BMI
Produced by MF Shalem
Verse:
I'm comin' back still starvin' like the depression.
This shit is depressin', rap is in a recession.
At every session,
Known to shut 'em down like
When slugs fly, doves cry—this is what it sound like.
Who wanna battle Grip?
You say that your mic is a cannon? Well, mine's like
the whole f..ckin' battleship.
Extravagant, rappers get lost—it's like "Labyrinth".
Hazardous, hungry on the mic? No, I'm ravenous!
Slide up in the cut and I slice 'em like radishes.
Savages! Get up again like young Lazarus.
Tell me I should get to the point? I spit javelins.
Well known for rollin' up stoned like Mick Jagger is.
Ain't that a bitch?
I'm it, and you never is.
Hirin', firin'—this is my severance.
This is my Everest. High? I'm like heaven is!
Treacherous! On the block droppin' like Tetris.
Entertainin' like Cedric, big in all measurements.
Pullin' out the microphone quick with no hesitance.
The first one to switch up his flow—there's no
precedent.
A brand new kind of sick—there's no test for it.
Live from Broakland where I am the sole resident.
We can take it out to the curb and go settle it,
Or we can take it out to the curb and go peddle it.
The mixtape is comin' in first like gold medalists.
Give 'em like a hundred bars, I'm so generous.
Spit like a cobra except I'm more venomous.
When I'm in the booth I'm showin' 'em no friendliness.
Leave 'em with a heart-shaped hole and a cold
emptiness.
Theft is just a permanent loan with no interest.
Squeeze the microphone like I'm holdin' a four-fifth
and just
Bucka-bucka-ba-blau! The style's so ridiculous!
Gifts like Saint Nicholas, bitch—it ain't Christmas.
Shinin' like Mr. Clean, I'm so Listermint.
Not Special Ed, but I'm the magnificent.
Start it, I finish it. Pardon my penmanship.
A-Team, all in your face like Dirk Benedict.
Thanks, but don't mention it.
Rappin's my job—I'm so into it, and our relationship is
so intimate.
Try a lil' tenderness,
I'm always hurtin' somebody's feelings, 'cuz all of
these guys are real sensitive.
Hey, you're not fresh—what the f..ck is your style for?
I'm sorry, but the truth is inconvenient like Al Gore.
Grip known to give 'em that
Golden Age vintage rap
For the babies—start 'em on it young like it's Similac.
Been a mack, close range, spray like a mini-Mac.
Don't wear a chain—no cable, no Cinemax.
Send it to the label and I hope they don't send it
back…
Put it in the number one spot like it's handicapped.
Hand me that mic, I'ma kill it like "Handle That".
All the time spent sweatin' bullet shells in the lab…
The best motherfuckin' cassette your deck ever have.
"You call this an album?"
No, it's y'all epitaph!
If you don't know about the Rec, then you better ask.
Screamin' out "Fuck everyone!" like I'm Everlast.
On the microphone, beat it up like a heavy bag.
Grip Grand, hard like a rock? I'm a Chevy ad!
Lemme add, risin' to the top like a helipad.
Stop—Grip pick it up like a yellow cab.
I tried tell 'em that
I was on smash, and they jaw made of glass like the
shoe Cinderella had!
Ain't have to go to Photo-Mat to develop that
Felon rap. Step to the flow, get your melon cracked.
Grip been on hella tracks. This is not new to me.
The rhyme shine bright like this is my jewelery.
Quit your tomfoolery.
Snikkt!! I'm like Wolverine—
Super-powered spitter like this is my mutant gene.
I'm takin' over the ship—it's like mutiny.
Had tapes back in the 80's like Brucie B.
Don't front! Flow serious like I'm Steady B,
Plus always bigger and better like Beni B.
Yellow flag down on the play? That's a penalty.
Let it bleed,
On the d-lo like a centipede.
Lemme breathe…need another clip, 'cuz I emptied these.
All day, dazed and confused like the 70's.
Sail like the seven seas
On these so-called MCs—I don't call myself shit but the
letter "G".
Styles you could never see, kinda like camouflage.
All year in the workshop like I'm Santa Claus.
Grip, and I am the boss. Kept the hammer cocked,
Rhyme book full of hot lead like an ammo box.
Can we talk about it like Alcoholics Anonymous?
Ominous, study my dough like economists.
Broke like a promise is…
Boy, I get deep! 20, 000 leagues under the sea like the
Nautilus.
We like to party, but, bitch, it's not Carnival.
Change up the play like this is my audible.
This is my chronicle. It's almost time to go.
Grip known for makin' 'em jump like Geronimo!
All my flow's fire, so don't stand in front of me.
Send 'em to the principal's office like Young MC.
Oh, no! It's gonna be a riot in here,
So get the cops and the firemen here on the double, G!
Yeah! I'm the Double G—Grip Grand, the ultimate bad
man,
So you should be glad there's just one of me.
Nasty as I wanna be, rappers can't f..ck with me,
96 bars—what more do y'all want from me?!?