Grain, Pt. 3 (feat. Hell'z OWN & Chelsea Chavis)

Ain't a thing gonna move unless they speak to me If this was '88, I would be writing raps for Eazy-E Every day I'm better than my last there ain't no peak in me Running with my style, I'm about to send them boys a C&D You fall faster than you climb, I've seen it happen easily Momma used to worry about the things my Pops was teaching me The only thing I learned was stay in character, keep it G I thrive in the darkest hours, it provided peace for me They're saying it ain't real unless you do it for the streets to see Praying I don't gotta live a life that's filled with secrecy I don't think any girl in my city is a reach for me Catch me in Miami trying to find out where Caresha be Uh, I'm taking all of this before I call it quits I've been jamming mumble rap 'cause fuck it we can all exist Long talking? Never the case You be at the table talking 'till you're red in the face You should call The Smiths The most unknown spitting and killing shit as long as this You're looking at the top ten, you're gonna need a longer list Whole lot of noise and emotion look how they ball their fists But bring my name up and look around and see how calm it gets The skies are looking ominous honestly don't test me I've never been the type to explain if they don't get me She tells me everything, except that she won't let me We're on that XXX shit sipping on Dos Equis DeSaint I did the math on the site Counting cash on a flight Illuminate the dash, hit the gas, then I blast on the night I got it for the low so you know I had to tax on the price Black with the white Grey skies is at abundance The Rollie old but the face is custom Ain't never ticking, luck stricken, not politicking no subjects Ya'll pillow talking with bitches And telling them everything about all of your operations Then you wonder how the Feds got a 98% on conviction The rate is the high, the buy is the low The play is get mine A player gonna shine through rain, sleet, hail, or snow E320 with at least three semis up in that motherfucker Nine by nineteen and two twenties I told you I'm a hustler Road runner, burn rubber Flow's butter, cold brother Rolling stone with no home just for the night with no covers Back out by the AM to get more before I blow bud up And hit the highway and say a prayer against these bloodsuckers