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round three - grindhard e & ysr gramz lyrics

[verse 1: ysr gramz]
f*ck, i done f*cked up
caught an opp lackin’ yesterday, i done lucked up
we caught him, dropped him, now we one up
you know i got my gun on me, i got one up
ridin’ ’round with sticks in this whip, not no nunchucks
he let a n*gga do his edd, he a dumb f*ck
i just text this one lil’ b*tch like, “i’m tryna f*ck”
kicked this lil’ b*tch out the crib, she lit up a blunt
free my n*gga cannon out the cell, he lit up a club
n*gga, you ain’t gettin’ no f*ckin’ money, you only up a dub
they slid down his block, they was bustin’ like a f*ckin’ sub
my lil’ n*gga shoot sh*t like the f*ckin’ suns
this n*gga do everything like me, he my f*ckin’ son
they gave my pops twenty*five, n*gga, f*ck a judge
we finna walk down on ’em like a f*ckin’ rug
we gon’ do ’em like pac, he think he a thug
my n*gga head f*cked up, he be doin’ drugs

[verse 2: grindhard e]
i can get anything you can think, i’m really the plug
g*r*i*n*d hard, i get it out the mud
n*gga, four*forty*eight, i can make ninety*six hundred off of bud
seventy*five an eighth, six hundred a zip
i be taxin’, but the more weight you get, the cheaper it get
ridin’ ’round f*l*i*n*t with this 26 glued to my hip
glock with no safety with a thirty*round stuck in the clip
you ain’t gotta worry, i ain’t f*ck your ho, i’m stuffin’ the b*tch
if you catch me up right at a walgreens, then i’m bustin’ a script
pint of cough syrup and ninety pills off all for one person, i’m lovin’ this sh*t
you ain’t gotta sell dope to make money, i could teach you what hustlin’ is
you won’t catch me tryna fight or tussle, i’m poppin’, i don’t really know what tusslin’ is
ride around with the pack, when i caught him, i start bustin’, he runnin’ again
talkin’ crazy, been had punched him in his sh*t, bet he won’t say nothin’ again
if a b*tch i want won’t let me f*ck, then you know that i’m f*ckin’ her friends
d*ck good, any b*tch that i f*ck, i bet they want me to f*ck ’em again
spin down they block, if we don’t catch ’em the first time, then we spinnin’ again
poured a four, i ain’t feel high, now it’s kickin’ in
when i was trappin’, i ain’t never had to leave up outta michigan
[verse 3: ysr gramz]
he let them shots off, ain’t hit n0body, that n*gga missed again
oh, i ain’t your top five flint rapper? you need to pick again
oh, you hangin’ with a rat n*gga? he gon’ snitch again
i should up glock on this n*gga and make him p*ss his pants
put a switch on my glock, it ain’t work, i gotta fix my pin
how you up and your friend broke as f*ck? you need to fix your friend
i got a mini draco for n*ggas six*foot*ten
i know you heard about them last n*ggas, them n*ggas six foot in

[verse 4: grindhard e]
d*mn, that’s really f*cked up
r.i.p. lil’ boo, he was takin’ sh*t, your mans was gettin’ stuck up
n*ggas be broke as h*ll in real life, on internet, keep they fronts up
rock him and his mans, but somehow, one of them survived, so we want him
i’ll shoot first before he can get the chance to say what up
we were bustin’ juggs, ain’t gettin’ no sleep ’til the sun came up
f*ck with the same n*ggas that was comin’ around when i was comin’ up
now everybody went ghost on me, i think somethin’ up

- grindhard e ysr gramz lyrics

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