Get Focused DVD Freestyle by Franky Wit da Grippas Lyrics
[Verse: Frank wit tha Grippas]
I was always a real buck in the hood, real buck in the hood
Serving the guns and puffing the ‘woods
Tryna see a real buck in the hood
Fuck the haters kept a trey-eight tucked in the hood
I was ’bout paper even if it was just a lil’ something to get by
Block kept a nigga with the lah to get high
Bunch of lil’ bitches around, I said they was for Glock
He said they was for Dot, he said they was for Jay
And Jay said they was for Bey, well Bey he’s known his four pound a day
But let me get back to the story
A bunch of lil’ niggas running ‘round like a dozen of 40’s
You couldn’t tell if we was a dozen or 40
And now we hold a dozen in .40’s
Waiting for creeps, creeps waiting they thinking we sleep
Y’all niggas’ll keep playing ‘cause we playing for keeps
See my old heads schooled me to the fact of the matter
Matter of fact I made my own way in the streets
Thinking it’s sweet, they’ll find ya’ brains in the street
And the rest of ya’ remains under sand on the beach
I ain’t playing capisce? I’m a 3-1 soldier
Keep three guns on the belt with no holster
TCYG, TCT, still see G
Coming from the DE, L got the DE
Nigga wanna see me, he be
M.I.A., down in M-I-A, you know how I play
I be on my toes like Bally
Lil’ redbone, cornrows and a body
I don’t act dog, ain’t a corn role in my body
Don’t make, me roll to ya’ lobby rolling a Tommy
The realest nigga by any means necessary
For your safety, try to stand in the secondary
I let a clip off, tossing bullets all down ya’ field
Hit ya’ chest in the open, that’s what you call a pickoff
And the pitfalls, yeah we shoot dice, craps
Clap, shoot twice blow ya’ brain on the brick wall
Now you put ya’ name on the same one
I won’t even change guns, I’ll flame ya’ family with the same one
Chains done made y’all change
So if I catch you in ya’ Range in my range I’ma take y’all chains
Shit, and I ain’t gon’ stop at all
I pop ya’ broads ya’ dog’ll rock I’ll rock ya’ dog
Bitch niggas get the cops involved
Lil’ niggas be claiming they pull triggers wouldn’t rock [?]
Look, ain’t no stopping me, ain’t no locking me
He don’t cooperate when I’m robbing him then I’m rocking him
Niggas know the rules of this shit, and if you don’t
That’s the reason you don’t know how I be doing this shit
YG, though I look like a old one
I’m uptight, so I blow J’s listening to they old songs
Living with no soul, niggas is cornrows
Getting in my head ‘til I pick ‘em and drum rolls
Niggas start scrips start playing a dumb role
Acting like they change up, tryna get they brain fucked
Run up with the thang like, ‘pussy give ya’ chains up’
I end up in prison then I’m never giving names up
I was put down by the OG’s to put up cheese
Fiends scraping up money from Stogies
Tryna get on, get on, and you niggas’ll flop before you drop
Scream ‘I’m Pac’ before you shot
No you not, seeing me
Even if X-ray vision was ya’ scenery
You seeing me? My bitch is tryna scheme with me
So do you bitch niggas, so it’s big clips in my steamery
Shit I’m a heat seeker, four pound hitter nigga like a heat-seeker
Or a pound shit I need reefer
Yeah I flipped and cop, I’ll flip you and take yours if I need sneakers
Chief for the villagers
Keep something up in smoke and shotguns like I copped from the pilgrims
You could think ya’ man hot, I’m not feeling him
Pop with rocks and Glocks and I’m killing ‘em
Grim Reaper now, base I’m selling ‘em
Make me lift ya’ ceiling with some shit to lift a ceiling up
Sleep on me, and I’ma have to wake you up
And then wake you up so you could sleep, on me
And I ain’t got a problem with all that
You a’ight, can’t stand with the man dog, it’s easy to saw that
You niggas need to fall in the way back
Talking ‘bout the figures to the nigga that’ll follow ya’ Maybach
Hollow ya’ wave caps for floating the wrong boat
From long-scope niggas in they throat with chrome coats
Niggas can’t cope with the bol
How I make you a ghost toting the fours have you floating through walls
Early
I was always a real buck in the hood, real buck in the hood
Serving the guns and puffing the ‘woods
Tryna see a real buck in the hood
Fuck the haters kept a trey-eight tucked in the hood
I was ’bout paper even if it was just a lil’ something to get by
Block kept a nigga with the lah to get high
Bunch of lil’ bitches around, I said they was for Glock
He said they was for Dot, he said they was for Jay
And Jay said they was for Bey, well Bey he’s known his four pound a day
But let me get back to the story
A bunch of lil’ niggas running ‘round like a dozen of 40’s
You couldn’t tell if we was a dozen or 40
And now we hold a dozen in .40’s
Waiting for creeps, creeps waiting they thinking we sleep
Y’all niggas’ll keep playing ‘cause we playing for keeps
See my old heads schooled me to the fact of the matter
Matter of fact I made my own way in the streets
Thinking it’s sweet, they’ll find ya’ brains in the street
And the rest of ya’ remains under sand on the beach
I ain’t playing capisce? I’m a 3-1 soldier
Keep three guns on the belt with no holster
TCYG, TCT, still see G
Coming from the DE, L got the DE
Nigga wanna see me, he be
M.I.A., down in M-I-A, you know how I play
I be on my toes like Bally
Lil’ redbone, cornrows and a body
I don’t act dog, ain’t a corn role in my body
Don’t make, me roll to ya’ lobby rolling a Tommy
The realest nigga by any means necessary
For your safety, try to stand in the secondary
I let a clip off, tossing bullets all down ya’ field
Hit ya’ chest in the open, that’s what you call a pickoff
And the pitfalls, yeah we shoot dice, craps
Clap, shoot twice blow ya’ brain on the brick wall
Now you put ya’ name on the same one
I won’t even change guns, I’ll flame ya’ family with the same one
Chains done made y’all change
So if I catch you in ya’ Range in my range I’ma take y’all chains
Shit, and I ain’t gon’ stop at all
I pop ya’ broads ya’ dog’ll rock I’ll rock ya’ dog
Bitch niggas get the cops involved
Lil’ niggas be claiming they pull triggers wouldn’t rock [?]
Look, ain’t no stopping me, ain’t no locking me
He don’t cooperate when I’m robbing him then I’m rocking him
Niggas know the rules of this shit, and if you don’t
That’s the reason you don’t know how I be doing this shit
YG, though I look like a old one
I’m uptight, so I blow J’s listening to they old songs
Living with no soul, niggas is cornrows
Getting in my head ‘til I pick ‘em and drum rolls
Niggas start scrips start playing a dumb role
Acting like they change up, tryna get they brain fucked
Run up with the thang like, ‘pussy give ya’ chains up’
I end up in prison then I’m never giving names up
I was put down by the OG’s to put up cheese
Fiends scraping up money from Stogies
Tryna get on, get on, and you niggas’ll flop before you drop
Scream ‘I’m Pac’ before you shot
No you not, seeing me
Even if X-ray vision was ya’ scenery
You seeing me? My bitch is tryna scheme with me
So do you bitch niggas, so it’s big clips in my steamery
Shit I’m a heat seeker, four pound hitter nigga like a heat-seeker
Or a pound shit I need reefer
Yeah I flipped and cop, I’ll flip you and take yours if I need sneakers
Chief for the villagers
Keep something up in smoke and shotguns like I copped from the pilgrims
You could think ya’ man hot, I’m not feeling him
Pop with rocks and Glocks and I’m killing ‘em
Grim Reaper now, base I’m selling ‘em
Make me lift ya’ ceiling with some shit to lift a ceiling up
Sleep on me, and I’ma have to wake you up
And then wake you up so you could sleep, on me
And I ain’t got a problem with all that
You a’ight, can’t stand with the man dog, it’s easy to saw that
You niggas need to fall in the way back
Talking ‘bout the figures to the nigga that’ll follow ya’ Maybach
Hollow ya’ wave caps for floating the wrong boat
From long-scope niggas in they throat with chrome coats
Niggas can’t cope with the bol
How I make you a ghost toting the fours have you floating through walls
Early