Whatchu think about losin’?
‘Cuz I don’t think about that shit at all
Welcome to Broakland, you should think about movin’
We on strike for a higher wage
They make a lot of claims, but I could see through a sucker like a Bible page
Ask Ice-T if rhymin’ pays
How about Power, Evil E and Darlene
With the shottie raised
I rep Cali when I spit my vocals
Throw your hands in the air like the Lench Mob logo
So forget your bifocals, I told you
You would need a telescope to see the
Shit that I’m close to
What is it? People tell me that I seem different
I’m in outer space, so excuse me if I seem distant
Grip been away for a while
Now I’m back with new styles
So prepare to get served like a caterer
I was in LA in ’88 playin’ tapes
At the Great Western Forum where
The Kings and the Lakers were
I take it back to the sound of my youth
That TR-808...is the sound of the truth
Since Rodney O. & Joe Cooley
Everlasting bass has flowed through me
I got it on tape like home movies
Born in the Bay, but my parents divorced
I had to leave, please believe I still carry the torch
I learned all about the City of Dope from Too Short
California, rappers get smoked like Newports
In the W, E-S-T where I be
Sittin’ in the park waitin’ for you like Hi-C
Wanna battle? I spit ‘til the record is done
Call a DJ, quick, Grip is second to none
I can’t forget Spice One, E-40, The Click
I always say what I think, like a Freudian slip
So go ahead, take a photo of Grip
Screamin’ “Whose world is this?”
Middle finger up, holdin’ my...