Thursday Night Lyrics – GRIP
Singer: GRIP
Title: Thursday Night
They wanna see a n#gg# fall off
I came too far for that, I’m too smart for that like a Harvard cat
I put my heart in rap
Had to stop worryin’ about where my father was at
Had to father myself
Now I’m in my second parenthood ’cause I’m a father myself
Priorities changed, instead of prayin’ to God for wealth, I just pray for my daughters health
I mean, what more can I ask for?
Meanwhile, I’m just tryna put this dough in a [?] so the flow is tabasco
Still trippin’, guilt ridden every time I blow this tobacco, f#ck
‘Cause I know that I know better
My girl tryna knock down the walls in my heart, but I won’t let her
Guess who’s still afraid of the four letters?
Plus, I’m still in a gang, got a thang for thick dames
Especially if thеy bow-legged
I envision thе hoes naked even with you fully clothed
Mind of a man I suppose, you could still smell the grounds on my clothes
m#th*rf#ck*rs know that they can never slander the flow
Look down on a n#gg# even if he stand on your toes
I fit right in with the pros, don’t I?
Sound like a XXL freshman, I sound like the seniors, I’m destined to fill up arenas
My team is the [?] make no amount of money comin’ between us allegiance
Sit together like Serena and Venus
Or we just [?] rappers be bitin’ the sh#t that I’m jottin’
n#gg#s be schemin’, b#tches be plottin’
We could be spillin’ for n#gg#s that’s gone but never forgotten
Mouth piece move like Egyptian cotton
If I sweet talk, I might spoil a b#tch rotten
But, that there ain’t even my M.O
We just tryna blow like Bin Laden
No more bench ridin’, I be the one to take the last shot
While you sit and watch from the sidelines like a mascot
Got the game on padlock, do it for the have-nots
From the home of the rap talk
Can’t forget about the [?] bounce
Every [?] is a n#gg# tryna sell you a ounce (Ayy, boy, I got that [?], boy)
Uh, or a dub or a dime
Get they [?] hit the club just to shine
With the bad hoes and the thugs intertwined
I got ice in my heart, I got love on my mind
I’m just too mad conflicted, I fit in with the misfits
I used to just kick sh#t with the homies in the hood
Now we all on the rise like [?] (Now we all on the rise like [?])
And f#ck a handout, I just get to where I’m goin’ on my own like a stick shift
f#ck a handout, I just get to where I’m goin’ on my own
Still the same n#gg# from the Zone, I’m a Zone-6 shit
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Lyrics GRIP – Thursday Night
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