Groove Theyellin by Isaiah G Lyrics
[Produced by Aaron Deux]
[Hook]
Yo let me ask you this, (what?)
Why you sitting down on that passive shit
Now just groove (what?) X8
Yo let me ask you this, (what?)
Why you sitting down on that passive shit
Now just groove (igh) X8
[Verse One: Isaiah G]
What they be yelling to blacks in the mist
A one sided guest sheet and you back of the list
A slap on the wrist, for (pchoo pchoo) smacking ya bitch
But she ain't Dwayne Johnson didn't wanna act like a snitch
Man what. silly ho, dumb in all of her syllables
Thought that Wayne was with vanilly when spitting his milli flow
Really doe that high dosage of stupid le-le-thal
Thought she getting movies passes for stubbing her silly toe
I just be analyzing my eyes with can of visine
I'm the man to rise when my hands tied and I'm anesthetizing
You can't deny a plan gunless you covered the Verizon mans
Corpse laying with his severed texting finger inside ya hand
Dodged a ram, now I'm charge barging you with a limp son
I hit a homer trot and now marge to you Simps son
I'm a new man, colors bumping I'm a hue man
Ask human, who man, you man ooh damn
[Verse Two: Human]
I'm a horny man; you'll never see me walking past a groupie
Either stop and gasp and holler back, or autograph her boobies
You lack the creativity with bars to battle, truly
Cause I spit it like the ending of a pornographic movie
And if you wanna try Charles, I'm ending up
Behind bars like the intro before my rhymes start
I don't be concerned when these freakin' therms claim to keep a burner
I'll still leave you looking like post-Ike Tina turner
My bars are facts. What you spat? You made up all of that
But they could strap me down to a polygraph when I'm dropping raps
See honestly, your bars are weak. In fact, you couldn't stand a Chance if you put a Chicago rapper on his feet
My lines are sickness. I'll send you to mars. Hit you so hard, bet that when you wake up, you'll forget who you are
I done attacking these younger bastards that suck at rapping
Wanna catch me? Posted with I.G.; you can double tap me
I'm king, it's no mistaking that I hold the placement
Y'all just use the words, "craft" and "art-form" because the grownups say it
I flow with substance. Got a boner that the hoes in love with
Couldn't give me head without golden structures to hold it up with
[Hook] X2
[Hook]
Yo let me ask you this, (what?)
Why you sitting down on that passive shit
Now just groove (what?) X8
Yo let me ask you this, (what?)
Why you sitting down on that passive shit
Now just groove (igh) X8
[Verse One: Isaiah G]
What they be yelling to blacks in the mist
A one sided guest sheet and you back of the list
A slap on the wrist, for (pchoo pchoo) smacking ya bitch
But she ain't Dwayne Johnson didn't wanna act like a snitch
Man what. silly ho, dumb in all of her syllables
Thought that Wayne was with vanilly when spitting his milli flow
Really doe that high dosage of stupid le-le-thal
Thought she getting movies passes for stubbing her silly toe
I just be analyzing my eyes with can of visine
I'm the man to rise when my hands tied and I'm anesthetizing
You can't deny a plan gunless you covered the Verizon mans
Corpse laying with his severed texting finger inside ya hand
Dodged a ram, now I'm charge barging you with a limp son
I hit a homer trot and now marge to you Simps son
I'm a new man, colors bumping I'm a hue man
Ask human, who man, you man ooh damn
[Verse Two: Human]
I'm a horny man; you'll never see me walking past a groupie
Either stop and gasp and holler back, or autograph her boobies
You lack the creativity with bars to battle, truly
Cause I spit it like the ending of a pornographic movie
And if you wanna try Charles, I'm ending up
Behind bars like the intro before my rhymes start
I don't be concerned when these freakin' therms claim to keep a burner
I'll still leave you looking like post-Ike Tina turner
My bars are facts. What you spat? You made up all of that
But they could strap me down to a polygraph when I'm dropping raps
See honestly, your bars are weak. In fact, you couldn't stand a Chance if you put a Chicago rapper on his feet
My lines are sickness. I'll send you to mars. Hit you so hard, bet that when you wake up, you'll forget who you are
I done attacking these younger bastards that suck at rapping
Wanna catch me? Posted with I.G.; you can double tap me
I'm king, it's no mistaking that I hold the placement
Y'all just use the words, "craft" and "art-form" because the grownups say it
I flow with substance. Got a boner that the hoes in love with
Couldn't give me head without golden structures to hold it up with
[Hook] X2