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about

Explicit rap music.

credits

released November 25, 2011

Beat and cuts by DJ MF Shalem for "Jay Gee Lives Through Me" ASCAP.
Raps by Grip Grand for "Broakland Music" BMI
Mixed and masterd by Mark "Exit" Goodchild - Milk Money

Additional raps by Richie Cunning on "Rap Shit" for "Son of the City Music" ASCAP

tags

license

all rights reserved

about

DJ MF Shalem Keene, New Hampshire

I like rap. I like drums.

contact / help

Contact DJ MF Shalem

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Track Name: Grip Grand & DJ MF Shalem - Rewinder
Dear Universe, since we last spoke
I been trying to work the angles ‘cuz the label’s flat broke
Did my last quote-unquote "smash" get the cash? Nope
Now I’m comin’ back hard like Everlast on That’s Coke
I been runnin’ rap hard, never had a track coach
But as far as dope beats and bars, I had both
You need better punchlines like a bad joke?
Well Grip could ghostwrite ‘em
They scared like ghost sightings
Frightened, and lookin’ for holes to go hide in
I’m lookin’ for a booth my flows can go live in
There’s no rhymin' you could beat me with
Terminal illness, Grip is completely sick
Don’t ask me if I like your show -- yo, I hate it
I only think a song is “Ohhh!!” if I made it
Even after I faded away they still say
I spit so many times my flow’s dehydrated
They like it when I’m speakin’ on life like wise men
They like it when I be on the mic like Rakim
They like it just enough to get played
But not enough to get paid
Or get my record to break the Top Ten
The DJ make it blend like Ron G
In the studio, trying to produce like Paul C
You don’t know the blood, sweat, and the tears it cost me
Man, I’m tired of y’all thinkin’ our styles are all free
...Nah, I’m just playin’
But I’m not against makin’ the dough, I’m just sayin’
You know my frustration
So that’s why I act like I will crack a rapper in half like crustaceans
Dirty like the bathroom at the bus station
Or clean like a bottle of bleach
I breathe fire when I speak
I spit sharp like I filed my teeth
I sleep on a mountain of bones and a pile of beats
I eat break-loops for breakfast, lyrics for lunch
I kill a track after hearin’ it once
I don’t care if you front
I’m in the cut like a razor blade, tearin’ it up
Gave it away like spare change in a cup
Me and Sha give the people more bang for they buck
A volcano, can’t wait to erupt
My flow hot as a stove
A superpower ‘bout to conquer the globe
Walk in the door & split a rapper like a fork in the road
Other writers wanna cipher like I’m talkin’ in code
They get weak and collapse, I’m just speakin’ the facts
I’m still swingin’ like a lumberjack choppin’ down trees with a axe
Except I’m choppin’ MCs with my raps
Now I’m back on this Grip-plus-Shalem collab
Stay in the lab and make a song every day-and-a-half
It’s so easy, your man got a plan and a fortified DJ
That jam like the 405 freeway
Track Name: Y'all Fail
Verse 1:
Grip Grand is the way I spell
Success, y’all F to the A-I-L
It ain’t a MC I couldn’t say I’d kill
I can’t die so I don’t gotta make my will
I just press play, rap like I say I will
Make a deal for a mill', that’s the day I chill
But until then I’ma keep buildin’ the buildin’ up
What the fuck, gotta pay my bills
Gotta take my pills, ‘cuz MCs are a pain in the ass
No offense, that’s the way I feel
Take a spill and I still get up
You gon' see I’m gon' be on some Bun B, Trill and stuff
On some unplugged mic, rap real and stuff
On some one glove, Mike Jack Thriller stuff
On some One Love, Nas E-40 shit
Russian roulette, one slug for the clip
One blood, one drop, that’s all you get
Not me, I’m sick, I was born to spit
Your whole flow’s inappropriate
So, yeah, I got beef
A cannibal with a bone to pick
Do I own my shit?
“I own this” while I hold my dick
I’m a coin toss, yo, I flip
Any verse, any style, any flow I flip
‘Til competitors fold on some “Yo, I quit!”

Chorus:
M-E is the way I spell
Success, y’all F to the A-I-L
Y’all F to the A-I-L
Y’all F to the A-I-L
Rec-League is the way I spell
Success, y’all F to the A-I-L
Y’all F to the A-I-L
Y’all F to the A-I-L

Verse 2:
I go nuts on a rapper, bust on a rapper
Put ‘em in the ground, throw dust on a rapper
Old school, go Cold Crush on a rapper
Who knew you could hate so much on a rapper?
Over the top, still known for the bop
The Rec's like concrete, all over the block
Pick a name out a hat, they oughta stay outta rap
Grip is like AAA, get my name on the map
You’re not able to match wits, I’m able to back flip
I spit on the mic, so I ain’t gonna pass it
You’re makin’ a massive mistake
Thinking you could get away with actin’ fake, we ain’t gonna have it
It takes time makin’ a classic
I ain’t gonna tell anyone how I make it-- it’s magic
Grip Grand, in case you forget
It would take brain surgery to make you forget
Yo, no doubt, time to dead that mess
I’m a rap Superman, gotta wear that S
So control the noise, I expose a toy
When it comes to the flow, I’m the poster boy
You should, jump for joy, to hear my mic
On the real, couldn’t even get near my mic
You know we shine bright, and the Rec is a neon light
Another step and you’ll be on ice
Track Name: I Go Numb
Verse 1:
Son, I been round the block a lot
Speak in tongues, polyglot
Don’t stop the bodyrock
I don’t slap five, I karate chop
You go to the club where the bottles pop
I go smoke ‘dro out a skull with a hollow top
Talk like I oughta talk
Seems like you wanna walk in my shoes
I’m Optimus Prime, you’re a Dinobot
Your shit and mine are not compatible
‘Cuz game recognize game
I’m the Superbowl, you’re a paddleball
Blah blah blah, what I say doesn’t matter
Y’all never listen
Clever spittin’? Why bother with that at all?
Got a short attention span? Here, take a Adderall
Anxiety? Ativan -- generic Lorazepam
Me, I hook a beat up in the studio and track a jam
Masterplan -- rappers get bent like they’re Plasticman
This is genuine crack, even amnesiacs still remember my rap

Chorus:
I go numb
When I go dumb
Who wanna ride? Stickin’ out your thumb, sayin'
I go numb
When I go dumb
Who wanna ride? You know I don’t run
I go numb
When I go dumb
Who wanna ride? Stickin’ out your thumb, sayin'
I go numb
When I go dumb
Who wanna ride? You know I don’t run

Verse 2:
Like I say, we already bang
Flows, spittin’ heavy flames
Skinny neck, heavy chains
One man with many names
Grip Grand get the job done, check the resume'
Shalem, I need some more heat, get the pepper spray
Make a clean getaway
Never say never?
Say what? That’s some shit I would never say, ever!
Told ‘em any song that you can make, we can make better
I could turn the flow into a wolf, rearrange letters
Man, I switch styles repeatedly
Since way back when it was just G & G
Home studios was the genesis
Still puff the greenery, chew up the scenery
Bitch, I don’t play like my old busted Genesis
Been independent, yes
Been self-sufficient
Been underground, been broke, I can't tell the difference
Grip is so gifted
Flow is so dumb
I got left back I year, I was goin' so dumb

Chorus

Bridge:
You know I don't walk, I float on air
I go dumb, you know I don't care
Gotta ice cold glare, so y'all don't stare
Or I'll turn you to stone with my eyes, so there
Gotta style so rare, I'm worth my weight
In gold record plaques for the tracks I make
Better go get your facts straight or get the gas face
That's word to 3rd Bass

Chorus
Track Name: Flat Top Rules
Verse 1:
Flat top rules, flat top '89
Man I used to have mine with the lines like Kane
It was high school high and the girls was fly
I was practicin’ lines trying to rhyme like Kane
With a rayon shirt, do the running man, yeah, y’all, work
So c’mon, let’s move it like Special Ed
Tapes was the grittiest
Grip Grand was born in the City, bitch
That’s the most true shit I ever said
Fat cap rules, '92, new school
With the Air Max lime green trim new shoes
Had a swap-meet t-shirt, Dickies, Ben Davis
Wore a web belt, matched Starter hats, ten flavors
Rocked satin-lined flannel tops
King shit like Camelot
Cali G’s, Sammy sold trees out a ammo box
Back in the day I knew rap would never die out
What the fuck else you gonna listen to to ride out?

Chorus

Verse 2:
'85 rules, '85, old school
It was Slick Rick, Run DMC, and me
With the track suit pants in a B-Boy stance
Hip-hop steady blowin’ up, TNT
Had skips, not kicks, man I couldn’t buy shit
Pay what? Payless, better yet pay nothin’
So I didn’t look fresh in my hand-me-down vest
Or a fake Member’s Only jacket straight frontin’
'88 rules, junior high, high school
Where were you? I was at the store buyin’ PE
Had the gray cassette, used to play that shit
‘Til it broke and eventually I bought the CD
Yeah, '91 rules, Native Tongues, so cool
New York had the jazz, LA had the violence
With a beanie pulled low, couldn’t see a good show
I was too young to go ‘cuz they might have a riot

[Riot Bridge]

Chorus

Verse 3:
Back pack rules, '93 rap rules
Headphones so big bout ta’ break my neck
Trying to walk with a bop, troop up to the Hip Hop Shop
Cop a Conart shirt from Hex
Got a Tommy Hill top that Grand Puba rocked
In a video before he dropped Reel to Reel, B?
Or were you more on that cold
Timberlands when it snows
And a parka like Preem on the Arena LP?
Yeah, Jumpman rules, '9-cipher, etc.
In the rhyme cipher, Grip flow with a sharp tongue
Can’t afford Jordans so I gotta save up
Bought the silver and black with the glow-in-the-dark tongue
Everyone wanna go back to the past
But for me, I would still hop back to the future
If, back in the day, you knew rap would never die?
You were right, ‘cuz we still got rap in the future

Chorus
Track Name: Suckers
Verse 1:
Man, they got my head all busted
Tried to tell me I was unproductive
Doin' all these songs that they don't wanna fuck with
Shit from the heart, but they don't wanna touch it
And they said art's really not in the budget
Tried to get smart, but they wanted that dumb shit
Not the same concept they wanted to run with
You know who I am? Yo, you must have the wrong Grip
Cut all the long skits, you ain't De La
A crossover hit? Sorry, you ain't Hey Ya
You need a get a new style or they won't play 'ya
But what style, exactly, they won't say-a
Now they got me fucked, not trustin' my instinct
I just try to bubble like soap in a dish-sink
Distinct feeling I'm being misunderstood
It's all good?
Yo, that's not what Grip thinks

Chorus:
You take a good thing and you ruin it
Come to my hood, don't think of doin' it
I don't know who you think you're foolin' with
To all the suckers, I love you anyway
You're the best at bein' the worst, you know
Your disease is irreversible
Oh, please don't take it personal
To all the suckers, I love you anyway

Verse 2:
Damn, they tryin' to change the name, man
A whole new direction, change the game plan
Switch it all around so it's not the same and
The people still front 'cuz it's not a name brand
Yo, they tried to kill me, I seen the hangman
But I'm dumb smart, so they call me Rain Man
Wait -- if I'm smart, why'd I give away all of my songs for a song? I'm not as smart as I say, damn
So while you look cool in your Ray-Bans
I'm still in Broakland where I'm coolin' like a fan
I'm cool with my eight fans
I'm on my way up
I stay up like the tray table is when the plane lands
We make jams for the layman
The everyday person who can't stand the B.S., and P.S.
Rec-League, and I know we're fresh
Yo, it ain't no contest

Chorus

Bridge:
Damn...
And I don't need a love like that
'Cuz they told me they love my track
And they want me to call right back
All I got was a dial tone
Man...
But the hate only made me stronger
Why you think that I make these songs for?
I remember the days that you long for
When hip-hop was a cultural milestone...

Yo, I had a dream last night, it was crazy
Industry rule number four thousand and eighty
These labels all hate me
My girl had to shake me to wake me
I screamed out "Don't let 'em take me!"

Chorus
Track Name: Rap Shit - Feat. Richie Cunning
Verse 1:
Get a grip, spit like a chainsaw, I let ‘er rip
Bitch, I don’t even own a suitcase—I never trip
Ask how we settle it? That's how we settle it.
Take your tape out and straight mash out instead of it
Step aside, act like you seen us before, recognize
George Washington with the flow, son, I never lie
Turn the flash on, dog, I'm never shy, catch a wide
Shot of the wreckin' ball y'all 'bout to get leveled by
Let it ride, rappers really need to stop buggin’ like pesticide
Before they see stars like the Enterprise
Pennin’ my music for rappers to get offended by
I'm feelin' your single but mostly the instrumental side
I don’t like any side, both were the worst
That’s why I been insulting your work for the bulk of my verse
Just dig a hole in the dirt, homie, ya’ losin’, it's a global alert,
Scoviet Union takin’ over the earth
So you can make some noise, ain’t a raw beat that we can’t destroy
All week
tossin out words like a paperboy
Newsflash, every single rapper in your crew's trash
Every single rapper in my crew shine like Doom's mask
Move fast
Fall back
Gimme room
Pause track...
The beat do what I tell it to do -- boss rap
Tight like a watch strap
honest like Abe in a top hat
Gettin’ tore up like my contract

Chorus:
Rap Shit, I know all about that shit
Rap Shit, I know all about that shit
Rap Shit, I know all about that shit
Yo, yo, I'm all about that shit
Rap Shit, I know all about that shit
Rap Shit, I know all about that shit
Rap Shit, I know all about that shit
So, so, so holler 'bout that shit

Verse 2:
Run it back,
gimme the mic,
Yo, I aint done with that
Old school shit that you can feel like a rumble pack
Y’all need to stop, turn around like a cul de sac
That a-way
Better take off like a Saturday
Stay at home, sit and take notes on my greatest songs
Second thought? Wait, better not, that would take too long
Way too long, I don’t waste time like the internet
In the Rec, ever since Richie wasn’t in it yet
Yo, lemme interject, Cunny done been a vet
Striped up
Doin' more shows than a Cineplex
Frisco is in effect, Grip told 'em hit the deck,
It's a threat
Bad for your health like a cigarette
Light 'em up,
Lighters up,
Go'n call the fire truck
Try your luck, every rhyme [BING!] like the Midas touch
Golden gate
Alcatraz flow so it’s no escape
Yeah, we got records, son
Rap sheets and stolen breaks
Roll the tape
That's how you motivate Rich, if your flow is fake
That's how you know it ain’t Grip
Yo, we on the same shit,
Same click
Same attitude
Word is bond, kid, I’m the eyes that’s in back of you
Likewise, son, I got ya' back, left, and right side
Rec is in the building
Straight up like a high-rise
We on the way up like a high five
You on the way down
So you oughta stay down like a drive by

Chorus:
Rap Shit, I know all about that shit
Rap Shit, I know all about that shit
Rap Shit, I know all about that shit
Yo, yo, I'm all about that shit
Rap Shit, I know all about that shit
Rap Shit, I know all about that shit
Rap Shit, I know all about that shit
So, so, so how about that shit?
Track Name: Break It
I'ma beat up the mic like a boxer do
I can't teach you to speak like a Cockatoo
You gotta learn on your own, man, what the fuck's wrong with you?
I gotta whole 'nother song to do
Flow exactly the way that I wanted to
Meet the mic in the booth for a rendezvous
On the move, rap fast, I can't afford to snooze
A job I can't afford to lose
Yeah, I saw the news from the fortress of solitude
Superman got a lot to prove
Of your bullshit rap I do not approve
I'ma snap the cassette if it's not removed
I got records that you couldn't hope to break
I been rappin' since you were your folks' mistake
Host the tape, "Grip Grand presents How to Go for Broke"
Fuck around, get your flow revoked

Chorus

Verse 2:
It's like that, y'all
When I start to rap
Grip Grand put the heart in a heart attack
Rec-League make a song that you want to slap
Smash the mic, here, I don't want it back
Clap clap, applause for a flow with the mouth of Jaws
An animal whippin' out the claws
I'm the boss, but some days it feels like I lost my watch
What I mean is, my timing's off
I'm makin' progress, it ain't a contest
I shut down shows like I made a bomb threat
I get on the mic, man, they're astonished
I'm rarely seen like I'm Hailey's Comet
I came this far, I would hate to stop it
The game ain't Tag, I'm afraid you're not "It"
Straight up, you're not Grip
I got shit dialed like a fuckin' cockpit

Chorus
Track Name: Red Alert
Verse 1:
Yo, the red light means stop, if it’s flashing it means cop,
Caught ‘em red handed with the rhyme tryin’ to eavesdrop
Red dawn, red sky at morning like warning
A shiny red apple that reveals a rare poison
Exploitin’—push the red button over nothin’
We say, the only Red Alert I wanna hear is the DJ
You better get to work on the replay
You couldn’t sell it for a red cent on the Ebay
Red faced, embarrassed 'cuz all of the red tape
You put up couldn’t stay or delay my escape
I appeal to the voters in blue or red state
It’s a red letter day, unload the dead weight
Wore the red badge of courage, the red mask of death
Red sun in the East, red rain in the West
Took the red eye to jet from one place to the next
'Til my record done seen more plays than a ref

Chorus:
Whatever you want, we got it
Whatever you need, we got it
Whatever I do, Red Alert
Whenever my crew...Red Alert
Whatever you want, we got it
Whatever you need, we got it
Whatever I do, Red Alert
Whenever my crew...Red Alert

Verse 2:
I’ma paint the town red until all the wack rappers found dead
Or in a bed at the Red Cross instead
I’ma drop a red herring, throw the dogs off the scent
Yo, roll out the red carpet, there’s a star on the set
I got hip-hop in my red blood cells
But I’m still in the red I don’t get 'nuff sales
Which should be a red flag, no one said that life’s fair and
It could all get shot down like the Red Baron
Preparin’ for rhymers from here to Red China
I redline the track 'til you have to rewind the
Last rhyme that I say, it gets better each time ya'
Bring it back to the start like Herc and Bambaataa
Red dot or red beam, both winnin’ points for the red team
Cryin’ fake tears at the death scene
Cryin’ "REDRUM" at the next scene to get green
And put a motherfucker on ice like the Red Wings

Chorus

Verse 3:
In the blue, white, red you get your rights read
Take it back to that chain gang rap like Shinehead
When the Scoviet Union unleash the Red Army, at least we said sorry
The Rec is all over the street like dead bodies
You know it’s too late
Red October Halloween pitchforks and red capes
Yes, I sent grapes out of town on Fed Ex
Peter Tosh in the mail, Steppin’ Razor Red X
Red stamp, insufficient funds on my rent check
On some Jeff Foxworthy, you might be a redneck
On some Redd Foxx, dirty, I ain’t clean it up yet
I came back upset like a Vietnam vet
I said if you can’t see me then raise the red lantern
The new scarlet letter is G, for Grip Grand, son
Red hot, it can only get hotter
Like a handgun goin’ through shells like Red Lobster
Track Name: Go Outside
Chorus:
Go outside and play
Like it was a Saturday
We gon' get it y'all
We gon' get it y'all
We gon' get it and get it until we get it all
Go outside and play
It’s another sunny day
We gon' get it y'all
We gon' get it y'all
We gon' get it and get it until we win it all

Verse 1:
Hallelujah, the waitin’ is done
Have a fun time, unwind, play in the sun
I know you don’t ever play when it comes
To doin’ [“Hey!”] for the funds
But live your life, son, you only get one
And get smart, too, the rest of y’all only get dumb
Which ain’t wrong, play the song, man, you know we get dumb
But at the same time, I been on the grapevine
Talkin’ I’ma make mine march to a different drum
My name's right on the tip of your tongue -- Grip
We give 'em a run, for their money like a greyhound race
I wake up with a blunt and I stay out late
While my career’s in a slump gettin’ straight-out raped
Pour a beer out for those who don’t play our tape
It’s your funeral, hope you like flowers and shit
All praise to myself by the power of Grip
Sha', let the beat build like a pile of bricks, and let's...

Chorus:
Go outside and play
Like it was a Saturday
We gon’ get it y’all
We gon’ get it y’all
We gon’ get it and get it until we get it all
Go outside and play
It’s another sunny day
We gon’ get it y’all
We gon’ get it y'all
You know who I hate, man?
Lames
Lames?

Verse 2:
Lames
I won’t say no names
This ain’t PE, bitch, I don’t play no games
So?
So? We came to conquer the globe
I spit flame like the range on the top of your stove
You keep rockin’ a role that you stole from the top of the polls
I’m just bein’ myself
Are you cool with the fact that your album is wack?
Man, it won’t ever be on my shelf
I can’t believe what I see
I’m trying to build, you would think I was writin’ my will
‘Cuz everybody’s like “Leave it to me”
But they all cash the check, then their asses quit
If I’m upset, I got reason to be
I just wanna recoup
iIt’s hard times, walk a mile in my boots
Aubrey O’Day, I got kicked out of the group
Now I’m out on my own, but I still wild out on a poem
Until I get kicked out of the booth, then I…

Chorus

Verse 3:
Hallelujah, we finally arrived, it was times
I thought the sun wouldn’t find me alive
But then another day turns to another day
Turns to another day now, and somehow we survived
And it’s rough when you just can’t provide for the fam
I need a lifeline, and I don’t mean the palm of my hand
At the door I said “I’m in the band”
They still told me to step
I’m like “F that, it’s time for a stand”
It’s time for a plan, I’ve got an idea or twos
This is real life, not like you see in the news
It’s unfiltered and raw, file under "Hip-hop" in the store
But it still might give you the blues
And it feels like a change in the weather, we all in together
We better start rowin’ for shore
And I know it for sure, if you wanna walk up to the sun
All you gotta do is open the door, and just…

Chorus
Track Name: Aye Aye Aye
Chorus:
Everywhere we go, when they see us they smile
They know they gonna see a "Oh!!" they ain’t seen in a while
So in the street or at a show, all you hear is the sound, they say
Aye, aye, aye, it’s goin’ down
Everywhere we go, we get nothin’ but pounds
They know they gonna see a "Oh!!" that ain’t messin’ around
So in the street or at a show, all you hear is the sound, they say
Aye, aye, aye, it’s goin’ down!

Verse 1:
If you want it, you can get it
I should yell surprise because I’m not what you expected
Told ‘em I’m your pusher then I offered you a record
Can I talk to you a second?
The name is Rec-League, it’s time we start wreckin’
Yo, I got that one and only
I know it’s certified because I got that from my homie
Yeah, you heard about me ‘cuz I rock that microphon-e
While y’all are like baloney
I come from San Francisco like I’m fuckin’ Rice-a-Roni
I am nothin’ like a loser
Lampin’ in the motherfuckin’ sun, it’s like Aruba
Jamaica, Bermuda, Bahama
I smoke Mary J, no more drama
All cheers, so the crowd is all ears like Obama
I’ma push it to the threshold
Higher than my speed is when my foot is to the pedal
I gotta keep on pushing, said that I would never settle
I want the gold medal
‘Cuz rap nowadays is a cause with no rebels

Chorus

Verse 2:
If you hear it then you’ll like it
Music that’ll make you see the future like a psychic
We are superheroes, sucker, you are just a sidekick
I’m sharper than a ice pick
Tag the microphone with marker and fuckin’ write "Grip"
If you want a wack MC, then don’t invite Grip
I am strictly illy
The only way I’m ever quittin’ rap is if they kill me
And even then I’ll still be
A ghostwriter rhymin’ on the beat from A Milli
When the Rec is in the buildin’
We are goin’ dumb with one exception—when I’m chillin’
Me, I roll a blunt and kick my feet up to the ceiling
Dream about a million
For now, all I got is a couple of gold fillings
On the real, I been proactive
When the record drop alotta cats’ll say "So that’s it?
Yeah, it was OK, but on the whole it’s no Illmatic."
I guess it’s not a classic
Well, sorry, then I better be out…I gotta practice

Chorus

Verse 3:
You know Grip is not complacent
I been makin’ moves and makin’ music in the basement
Watchin’ number one while I maneuver to replace it
Remix and rearrange it
And make it permanent so these haters can never change it
I been sittin’ on a goldmine
Spittin’ all these hits the critics didn’t wanna co-sign
Now I’m gonna hang ‘em out to dry like it’s a clothesline
Stick ‘em like a rose vine
Rec-League rappers say it’s no time like go time
Track Name: Game Changer
Verse 1:
This game, rules changed, they want it free now
This ain’t a cipher, they want a free style?
Money all gone like, we need a bailout
Holler at the postman, we need a mail route
Stimulus check (check), we need a payout
Grip to the rescue, we need a safehouse
Old rapper pensions, new rapper lessons
Throw your hands up like you have a question
Make a new plan and I do have suggestions
Razorblade flow, I, too, have a weapon
Make or break, yo, I’ma kill it, no messin’
Overdub the tape and erase your whole session
Get a brand new look with a different aesthetic
Dead it! It won’t go away like bad credit
Forget it, Broakland's no vacation
Get merc'd where you live like home invasion

Chorus:
They all fall down
They all fall down
They all fall down
They all fall down

Verse 2:
This life ain’t fair, who wrote the rulebook?
I put my name on the shit like a school book
Who took the blame for the fact that today
Everything is way lamer? That’s a game changer
Man, y’all been puttin’ my job in grave danger
Money all spent but you didn’t buy Grip
Yo, it’s awful when they all drop you
It’s not cool
I paid my dues but it didn’t buy shit!
Now I’m back where I used to be, not where I’d choose to be
Delf style, recordin’ for myself now exclusively
Stressin’, Mel Gibson, Lethal Weapon
Now which motherfucker wanna jump off the roof with me?
The same old, same old, blah blah et cetera
Rap’s in a drought and it don’t fill the reservoir
It seems big dreams don’t fill the register
I’ll tell the truth but don’t shoot the messenger

Chorus

Verse 3:
This scheme, that scheme, who got it mapped out?
This team all about dope like a crackhouse
Go write a rap ‘bout how I get stoned ‘til I black out
While I throw stones in a glass house
Who gives one fuck? They the minority
To all of y’all, honestly, thanks for supportin’ me
To everybody else I say thanks for ignorin’ me
And forcin’ me to get a new show like Kimora Lee
New deal: no deal, no album, no song
No cost, so it’s no loss when it goes wrong
No market, no labels, no lawyer fees
No product, no advance, and no royalties
No more promotion, no distribution
Download it free so there’s no need to boost it
Consume it then forget it when you’re gettin’ more new shit
When artists start starvin’ to death, no music
Chorus
Track Name: Listen Up
Verse 1:
Listen up, you know just what the tough do when the gettin’s tough
We get goin’, I kept flowin’ when life was on some “Give it up”
Did it suck? Yes it did, it was rough, I will admit as much
Did a fuckin’ song every minute the critics wouldn’t touch
Did enough rappin’ to wonder if it’s gonna happen but
No one could make me wrap it up, say it’s a day and pack it up
Throw it away and back it up. Quit and get real with it?
This is real, I’m ‘bout to snap and fuckin’ get militant
But no, I keep it on the low before I O.D.
I hold the pain inside like the bottle around an O.E.
I wanna drain my eyes, these tears, they overflowin’
But they say that a man ain’t supposed to cry, how can I show it?
So I wrote it with the pen but the pad was too small to hold it
Never noticed. Even if I had italicized and bolded
Every quote I ever spoke and blown it up just like the slogan
On a billboard, they would still forget the flow, so it’s a no-win
No it ain’t no point in holdin’ my breath, I know I’m talented
The flow, I fuckin’ wrote it to death, no one can challenge it
I found that it just doesn’t make a difference what you're spittin’
If it’s different, ain’t no one wanna listen and say they down with it
Now is it pitiful that you was scrapin’ by
While other rappers make it, when their talent’s invisible to the naked eye?
They can try and hold me. That’s all I’ma say is they can try…
I take ‘em to the motherfuckin’ edge and see if they can fly
And when it turns out they can’t? I guess the story is done
Like Icarus who flew too close to the sun
I used to do the music, too, ‘cuz it was s’posed to be fun
It’s disappointing when you ain’t the star you s’posed to become
They trying to cut my career off like a tourniquet
You say I have a gift, and yet I swear sometimes I wish I could return the shit
But it’ll all be worth it if Grip is the last man standing at the tournament
I’m married to the music now, it’s permanent
But what if I flop, what if I stop, what if you’re hot
But no one hear y’all? When my tree fall, do it make a noise or not?
I find it hard to keep goin’ when every second is a struggle
And the best still need to hustle for a check, what does that tell you?
Yo, the game is fucked, no wonder all these rappers gone and gave it up
Pull the plug out on they fuckin’ microphone and hang it up
I’m changin’ up my grip on the bat, I’m doin’ different things
The only way you get a hit’s if you swing
I told my girl I was thinkin’ about quittin’
She looked me in the eye like “Bitch, is you bullshittin'?
If this is your real mission, pursue it within an inch of your life
They try to boo it, say fuck ‘em and keep spittin'”
I keep Grippin’, already ready, steady, get set
I’m ‘bout to turn the microphone into confetti then jet
I could rap ‘til the beat drops, and still fuckin' rap on a beatbox
I rap ‘til the fuckin’ CD --