Griselda Express Lyrics

Yeah
I know they keep wondering
I know they keep wondering when this shit gon’ stop
Huh, time
Aint no such thing as time, time is man made
You know what I mean?
But real shit though
Even if it was, this shit’ll never stop
Ah
And that’s on Machine Gun Black
Uh

I’m the who coined the griddy slogan
The Butcher coming
G.X.F, Semicolon, B.S.F
Griselda Express
How many really rode it?
I lost count when I dropped B.O.P., they watch me O.T.
But since they don’t rhyme on this peak, they gon’ try to copy those beats
So protect your aura
They put spells, wretched corners taught Butch well
How ironic, that eight foot cell turn my brain cells to book shelves
N*** who brag they never took deals getting cooked still
And my foot still on rappers necks who got their hand-me-down careers from the Goodwill
I’m betting heavy, let’s get ready, my last record was record setting
Def Jam let me in the building, turned the boardroom to Satriale’s
Okay, y’all could rap, but ain’t no way y’all could lap a true hustler
Who thought his way off the Ave, an advance got paid out in cash
I own the masters to a few of my classics, bank cards not plastic
The plug series mine, that’s why you could only pray y’all could catch us
They hate on the great soldiers, make you some cake and pay all your taxes
And I could never flake ’cause being a real n** pays automatic

Why it shoot like that?
Why it shoot like that?
Why it shoot like that?
Why it shoot like that?
Why it shoot like that?
Big stylin’, six deep in the Maybach truck
Got the bitch piling
Hopped out the two tone Balenci, ski mask smiling
Why it shoot like that?
Why it shoot like that?
Why it shoot like that?
Hit like five extra n***, I’m on shit like that
Scoreboard look like oh Lord, them n*** spinned right back

Look
Praying for clean money abundantly
Humbly, hoping my ambitions don’t crumble me
It’s one of me, n*** ain’t authentic, n*** wanna be
My reputation precedes me, I need at least a hunnid piece
Your worth wrong, n*** think they rappers ’cause they verse long
My last show, they sung my shit in unison like church songs
Ask about me, green off of brown like earth tones
I turn that to a eighty point split once the merch gone
It never was no route for us
Fentayl outpouring
You wanna get some money in my city, get a house for it
A fiend bought me a Samsung and a blender like a house warming
Gave that n** six bags out the bundle, he was out for it
It was so worth it, K9 unit because the dog working
Straight Yams, twenty piece tender that serve a soul purpose
Sawed off, call it Marsha Brady ’cause the nose broken
Shoot that shit in California, heard that shit in Hoboken

Look, uh
Pulled a McLaren blue and orange out, leave the doors up
It look like Pat Ewing getting his warm up
Talk to ’em
This like the best run I had in some years
Customers loyal like Spike Lee, we was selling Madison Squares
Do the research, them boys were starving
It was ugly for rap in this lane, we made it look like Lori Harvey
Talk to ’em
Nobody had to cosign for me
Had a room full of white like Michael Rubin Fourth of July party
My bitch got ass like Diana Ross daughter
Uh-huh
She wanted me to buy a gram of soft for her
Walk up in the spot, rich n*** can’t keep they eyes off her
Only thing she got is some good pussy they can buy off her
Uh-huh
They offer me the deals, I need the high offers
You think I’ll make that bag right
That money good, but that contract ain’t on the up and up
“Take the money and leave the masters,” take th

Griselda Express Lyrics

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