Sure by Kig V2 Lyrics
No life...(Are You Awake...?)
Dammit, I said no life!
[Verse 1]
Straight, outta, upper-middle class white neighborhood
Ain’t finna bang in this kinda hood
People cross the Zates claiming, oh, what I mighta did
Lighter end my prerogative, maiming whatever face that so daunted him
Selling shit to some crazy chick from internet
Describe as girlfriend, technically ain’t win her yet
Sure
Like it ain’t written in the heavens
Bit my sixes and sevens, bitch, I get what I want
Why these other girls front? Sure, like you ain’t shalmoota
And I ain’t some basket-case that hears that bass and goes Ruger
That establishment just wish you dead, and I’m just racing ‘em to ya
Blast’em like laxatives, my words ripping right through
Think FFAK is joke, M.E.F. ain’t a set?
Then go head and benzo your eight O proof, and be less fucking dead
I’m on a hustle to amaze, oh you think that’s debatable?
Well, we like to call that rustle in the shadows, “un-fucking-mistakable,”
[Chorus]
Ya’all bitches ain’t grind
Yo, you ain’t on a grind
Ya’all soul ain’t divine
No…you on some bullshit, though
No, ya’all, bitches ain’t grind
Yo, you ain’t of this motherfucking design
I’m tired of pacing around for these stars to align
But you wait, like, you on some bullshit
[Verse 2]
A noose the only exit from my tool shed
Never learned how to cool it, truest when I do shit
Gotta new vest, detonate, enemies evaporate, I live miraculously
Ain’t no rations on this plate, baby
Put my potential in the fire, now it’s hatching for me
Can’t poke my way all way to trophy, let’s see what slashing achieve
Code 8-0-8 from those below who don’t believe you need take action for peace
Wipe ‘way the data, Shout Triple-Acting, but stains on soul, manifesting...
[Verse 3]
Straight, outta, yuppie-bracket-washed district
Bumping Vinnie, Curry, Earl, Haze’s night ballads in when the broad day lit
I’m on some too-damn-great shit
So don’t even bother with dog, but beware humiliation
I’ll turn your sneering faces to sobs, maybe lumpy applesauce
I’ll fucking fuck up your job, but won’t fix these runts on a cross
Nullity watching you dab, bitch, you’ll disappear, as if magic
Felony’s worth, bars and cabbage, revere the bars that went savage
[Outro Chorus]
Sincerely from a sickness that facilitates lasting, right?
You, know you ain’t on a grind
Ya’all, soul ain’t divine
No…you on some bullshit, though
No, ya’all, bitches ain’t grind
Yo, you ain’t getting no motherfucking replies
I’m sick of sticking to the wishes of these pigs in the grime
They tryin’ pork-mug, they stuntin’ bullshit
They tryin’ ca-joles, they tryin’ fool shit
Think they’ll make home, I’m callin’ bullshit
They think they meso, while going way slow
Priorities flipped, when pass through G.I.K.’s estate though
Graves nodded in the late polls
Dammit, I said no life!
[Verse 1]
Straight, outta, upper-middle class white neighborhood
Ain’t finna bang in this kinda hood
People cross the Zates claiming, oh, what I mighta did
Lighter end my prerogative, maiming whatever face that so daunted him
Selling shit to some crazy chick from internet
Describe as girlfriend, technically ain’t win her yet
Sure
Like it ain’t written in the heavens
Bit my sixes and sevens, bitch, I get what I want
Why these other girls front? Sure, like you ain’t shalmoota
And I ain’t some basket-case that hears that bass and goes Ruger
That establishment just wish you dead, and I’m just racing ‘em to ya
Blast’em like laxatives, my words ripping right through
Think FFAK is joke, M.E.F. ain’t a set?
Then go head and benzo your eight O proof, and be less fucking dead
I’m on a hustle to amaze, oh you think that’s debatable?
Well, we like to call that rustle in the shadows, “un-fucking-mistakable,”
[Chorus]
Ya’all bitches ain’t grind
Yo, you ain’t on a grind
Ya’all soul ain’t divine
No…you on some bullshit, though
No, ya’all, bitches ain’t grind
Yo, you ain’t of this motherfucking design
I’m tired of pacing around for these stars to align
But you wait, like, you on some bullshit
[Verse 2]
A noose the only exit from my tool shed
Never learned how to cool it, truest when I do shit
Gotta new vest, detonate, enemies evaporate, I live miraculously
Ain’t no rations on this plate, baby
Put my potential in the fire, now it’s hatching for me
Can’t poke my way all way to trophy, let’s see what slashing achieve
Code 8-0-8 from those below who don’t believe you need take action for peace
Wipe ‘way the data, Shout Triple-Acting, but stains on soul, manifesting...
[Verse 3]
Straight, outta, yuppie-bracket-washed district
Bumping Vinnie, Curry, Earl, Haze’s night ballads in when the broad day lit
I’m on some too-damn-great shit
So don’t even bother with dog, but beware humiliation
I’ll turn your sneering faces to sobs, maybe lumpy applesauce
I’ll fucking fuck up your job, but won’t fix these runts on a cross
Nullity watching you dab, bitch, you’ll disappear, as if magic
Felony’s worth, bars and cabbage, revere the bars that went savage
[Outro Chorus]
Sincerely from a sickness that facilitates lasting, right?
You, know you ain’t on a grind
Ya’all, soul ain’t divine
No…you on some bullshit, though
No, ya’all, bitches ain’t grind
Yo, you ain’t getting no motherfucking replies
I’m sick of sticking to the wishes of these pigs in the grime
They tryin’ pork-mug, they stuntin’ bullshit
They tryin’ ca-joles, they tryin’ fool shit
Think they’ll make home, I’m callin’ bullshit
They think they meso, while going way slow
Priorities flipped, when pass through G.I.K.’s estate though
Graves nodded in the late polls