Grindtime (oh the mercy)
Yo one time for yo mind this is Grindtime check and (Welcome To The Grindhouse!) And we gonna do it West Indian Style for you this time yo Smith and Cash on the beat

[Chorus:]
When the Glock go blam blam, (boom, boom)
You die you don't get jiggy done you're done done
No there's nowhere to hide nowhere to run run
Grindtime motherfuckers here we come come
Once again when the Glock go blam blam, (boom, boom)
You die you don't get jiggy done you're done done
No there's no where to hide nowhere to run run
Grindtime motherfuckers here we come come
Rude boys if you feel me bust your gun

[Verse 1:]
Usually the two would be
Beside me when I cruise the street
Blue your feet blue your seat
He who moves usually
Cool it be, slow your roll
These niggas I have cool with me
Rock the same shoes as me
Went to the same school as me
News would be,
That these niggs I am tryin' prey up on ya, I just called to let ya know,
You need to keep the K up on ya
Chop up all these credit cards
Get rid of a the Yay up on ya
Skeet skeet,
Move fast don't let them bitches lay up on ya
You know you really wanna be rollin' instead
Hey there some niggas out here tryin' to put a hole in yo head
And ya sold it for bread
Funny the that life that we chose
Fast cars and this money
And these trifling hoes
Keep it real!

Who wanna test out the goon or the pride
I keep it on my hip they call me iron-side
Gonna and let a few fly
That made a few die
Some fell straight down others hand-glide
But none of them survive the rising of the tide
Drown in they own blood
Like pigs in the mud
Insert a few buds
Make sure he don't bud
Or toss the throw away
I don't hold the grub

[Chorus:]
When the Glock go blam blam, (boom, boom)
You die you don't get jiggy done you're done done
No there's nowhere to hide nowhere to run run
Grindtime motherfuckers here we come come
Once again when the Glock go blam blam, (boom, boom)
You die you don't get jiggy done you're done done
No there's no where to hide nowhere to run run
Grindtime motherfuckers here we come come
Rude boys if you feel me bust your gun

[Verse 2:]
Cancer sniff, cast a splif
Scoop me in the jag and dip
Bag a bitch and flag a ship
Over there like a bag of chips
Houdini a genie out of a bikini that's a magic trick
Abra Kadabra, I caught it all on camera
(While I) amazin' stamina
Fuck all the amateurs
Smokin' lavender
It's slightly lighter than purple with a murky
My family matters but ain't no Urkels in my circle of trust
Amongst each other, we trust each brother

There's another mad situation,
Sad situation
That every nigga I know is in a bad situation situation
I'm tired of waiting,
Tired of being patient,
Tired of waking up wondering if we gonna make it (gonna make it)
My hands are full
I'm a Grindtime disciple
Right hand to Bible
Left hand to rifle (a rifle)
We freed us boys
And we both got degrees
I got mine from the schools
He got his from the streets
Told me "little nigga don't be like me" (like me) guess I didn't listen no disrespect to he
(now back to me) It's kind of sad
That that thats all I want to be
A member of the gang
Rappin' and using slang
And even at career day
I said the same thang
Teacher shook her head
"What a god damn shame"
But really motherfucker
Who really should you blame
Product ah my environment
Workin' towards retirement
Just another motherfucker
Trying to come up
Hand above the water
And get head from your daughter
But who gives a fuck
Go on and sign me up
Big Slim in the building nigga throw ya G'z up!

[Chorus:]
When the Glock go blam blam, (boom, boom)
You die you don't get jiggy done you're done done
No there's nowhere to hide nowhere to run run
Grindtime motherfuckers here we come come
Once again when the Glock go blam blam, (boom, boom)
You die you don't get jiggy done you're done done
No there's no where to hide nowhere to run run
Grindtime motherfuckers here we come come
Rude boys if you feel me bust your gun

[Verse 3:]
The Ruger man the toolastan
From here to Jerusalem man
Used to move it down
Twelve hundred sixty two grams
Heavy chevy runnin' fuck it
It's a bucket trap car
Red dogs dominate it
Tryin' to trap a trap star
Hell naw we under rated
That'll be the day ma
Catch me in da eight ma
Hey I got the yay ma
Slip double played partna'
Parkin' lot pimpin' on 'em
Droppin toppin flippin on 'em
Cop a block and flip it on 'em
Pussy boy boxy boy
You ain't never shot shotty boy
You a boxy boy
Never shot a boy
That's why I shot all ya shattas boy
Left em' dead
On all my hotter boys
Blunts of madosia
Saturate the polo
Leave a mad odor nickle plated fofo
Strike like made cobra
Car jot em come get em
Cause his life over
Tell 'em Sheriff John Brown
If he come through town
He will be shot down
'pon sight 'pon day 'pon night
He'll be dead 'pon the river
With them boxy boys
And them informer niggas
Beaten swollen bloated like an elephant man
Blunts swollen, bloated like an elephant man
Past getting high, smokin' for the hell of it man
If you ain't Grindtime
You irrelevant man
Not Peel, not Jones Nario shit
I'm sorry hoe
Not Zack not Jack not Bill Collector eh!
Fuck you very much
Hope you have a bad day

[Chorus:]
Grindtime
(Chuckle)
When the Glock go blam blam, (boom, boom)
You die you don't get jiggy done you're done done
No there's nowhere to hide nowhere to run run
Grindtime motherfuckers here we come come
Once again when the Glock go blam blam, (boom, boom)
You die you don't get jiggy done you're done done
No there's no where to hide nowhere to run run
Grindtime motherfuckers here we come come
Rude boys if you feel me bust your gun


Lyrics submitted by Nivek138

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