Ooh (Hahahaha)
Yeah
Ooh, oh
There's some confusion about nooses
Guess our lessons ain't been learned
There's a contusion in our music
Guess our trauma ain't been earned
I realize my sacrifice don't mean shit
'Til my masters burn
All of this shit down to the ground
Until ownership gets its turn, oh
Yeah
We've been rappin' for pennies for half of a century
Laughin' to mask the fact that I'm baskin' in envy
Mastered the craft, now they use my masters against me
Advance me some cash- after taxes, I'm practically empty
Slowly losin' my passion, the path of an emcee
Got me gaspin', passin' the Henny and graspin' the semi
Niggas think 'cause I dropped a classic
I'm doin' better, like I got a slew of cheddar
If only you knew my thoughts of pursuin' a new endeavor
They sayin', "GRIP, you can't give up on the music, never
'I quit' is somethin' you could never say!"
It's funny, they act like I just started rappin' yesterday
Fact of the matter is, you niggas just started pressin' play, huh
I met a man who's pupils were dollar signs
He made a deal that promised I won't be forgot in time
But here's the catch: every single rhyme you jot is mine
Not a problem? Fine, just put your name on this dotted line
There's some confusion about nooses
Guess our lessons ain't been learned
There's a contusion in our music
Guess our trauma ain't been earned
I realize my sacrifice don't mean shit
'Til my masters burn
All of this shit down to the ground
Until ownership gets its turn, oh
Yeah
Product of the madness sold as product to the masses
From poverty, we bastards, so we flashin' in high fashion
Never learned cash money, so when earned cash money
We burned cash money, ghetto stars turned crash dummies
In foreign cars that's leased and Audemars with links
We had to buss down for all them times a nigga had to bus it
Or spent like half the budget to put some gas in the bucket
Down to your last "Like, fuck it" if I was a lad who's dad had duckets
Would I give the biz the green light?
If I knew the words, I sing, might put me on a string like puppets
Controlled by Geppetto from ghetto to ghetto
Kiss your hood goodbye and tell Hollywood, "Hello"
But old habits die hard and, where I'm from, we die young
'Cause we can't let bygones be bygones, so we buy guns
And when you caught slippin',
They gon' make a killin' off your killin'
And the cycle continues for your children, damn
There's some confusion about nooses
Guess our lessons ain't been learned
There's a contusion in our music
Guess our trauma ain't been earned
I realize my sacrifice don't mean shit
'Til my masters burn
All of this shit down to the ground
Until ownership gets its turn, oh