Grands

Yea yea yea...yea yea yea

Let’s get the rhythm of the hands (of the hands like), we got the rhythm of the hands (of the hands ‘cause), we be on the grind for the grands (for the grands we) put in work

Tryin’ to stack bands, (stack bands like) let’s get the rhythm of the uh, get the rhythm aye

Let’s get the rhythm of the uh, get the

From the pen I’m spillin’ that pain lately feelin’ mentally drained, thinkin’ in the future this could be the feelin’ from fame, my written’s a picture like it’s a digital frame or like I aimed at a canvas and did it with paint, the naysayers tend to pay me attention with hate, but anticipated the record when I mentioned the date, some fronted like I ain’t have or gave what it takes but ain’t heard half the shit that I made to know I spit with a blaze oh that flow is mo’ than a flickerin’ flame so - give me that recognition and remember my name, my best foot is ahead steppin’ into this game I keep my best foot forward as if I limp with a cane, I’m - goin’ the distance no limit or range they got them left blinkers on tryin’ to get in my lane, tryin’ to keep up as if it’s a race, not fixin’ my brakes at the speed that I’m goin’ I’m gon’ stick with this pace (go) - I’m ‘sposed to feel as tho’ I’m in a good space but since my mother passed away I wasn’t thinkin’ to straight, so maybe I should’ve taken a break, or maybe I should hang it up but I ain’t, ‘cause neither option is fate, as far as makin’ what is great - I refuse to refrain it’s the way that I was raised and my city is to blame I was born in the home of the braves attitude is I have nothin’ to lose but everything to gain

Let’s get the rhythm of the hands (of the hands like), we got the rhythm of the hands (of the hands ‘cause), we be on the grind for the grands (for the grands we) put in work

Over the years I’ve, conquered fears, conscious cleared, doubters unleashed a beast the monster’s here, had to carve my own lane that aisle was clear, kept my circle small I don’t belong with squares, I went and started my own company, for the fuck of it, I’m my own artist I own my publishing, wasn’t always tryin’ to be a known artist fuck fame been a cold artist when I started for the love of it, what I do should be clarified as drug pushin’, you buy the music you a drug smuggla’ anotha customa’, sucka rappas oughta duck, on the mic I’m nice with the punches I’m Sagat with the uppacut, pay attention I do that shit I got bubble gut, city of hustlers where I’m comin’ from, where it’s tough to out hustle us, I rhyme with the same hunger I had as a youngsta when I was waitin’ for the bus, bookbag full of notepads and school books, teachers who were gettin’ that struggle pay to school us, prepare for flight I’m walkin’ on air like his airness when wearin’ a black and red pair of Nikes, promise I’m a shed light I’m - Thomas Edison or Doctor Doom I got a different kind of medicine, promise I’m a shed light I’m - Thomas Edison or Doctor Doom I got a different kind of medi-

Let’s get the rhythm of the hands (of the hands like), we got the rhythm of the hands (of the hands ‘cause), we be on the grind for the grands (for the grands we) put in work