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letra de grim reality - graveyard productions

(verse 1: ?)
i look over yonder and what do i see?
all of my n-ggas with glocks around me
visions of psalm 23rd in my head
though i walk in the valley with my infra-red
where do you run, where do you hide
it’s gonna be a homicide
n-ggas laying on the curbs, bodies all in plastic bags
why do i walk away and hit the whips and let my khakis sag
they say a life is a terrible thing to waste
do you mind if i stick my hands in your guts and tell you how your intestines tastes
n-ggas think i’m friendly, no i’m not
pop goes the glock, bystanders get shot
you smoking rocks, no i ain’t my n-gga just reality
n-ggas are constantly asking me, where i put their bodies g
pumping, filling the body up with lead
how you gonna k!ll me when i’m already dead
watching head, i guess i’ll begin to f-cking slaughter
murdering mothers, fathers, daughters
son of a b-tch it’s not hard to die
why oh why must i feed you to the flies
higher than the clouds, because i’m out of the atmosphere
p-ss the razorblade and bumping hear my dear
fear no other man on this planet
having crazy dreams, i’m losing it goddammit
i got to hold on to reality because reality got a hold on me

(verse 2: lil grimm)
you look into my eyes, then my eyes got you dazed
you roam into my skull, you will be trapped into my maze
caught by the reaper so keep a n-gga deeper
—————————-
creepin on that other level, have you ever met the devil
suicidal ghost writer, bustaz make me use my 7
digging holes for you b-tches mind ——–
seven bodies dead without the head hung in my garage
having bad dreams so i jump out my bed and snap
————————-
—————— reading all these evil scripts
do you hear that noise i hear
cast a spell you disappear , run into the mystic fog
fall into the yellow brick road where your soul is taken on your bliss
it’s ice cold, bustaz can you —— this sh-t
mind lurking with the torture
take your body to the ground give it to the vulture
the doctors got no medicine, the cure is f-cking panic
————————————
look up in the sky
i’m so glad i cannot see reality got a hold on me since like chi-chi

(verse 3)
lord bless me for every sins i committed
who did the murder who did the murder, i did it
why did i do it, the devil told me so
mommy, daddy, devil don’t wanna let me go
my neighbors tell me “hey man get a grip”
but every time i grab a n-gga ————
but every time i drop a busta down i ask why
p-ss my philly blunt and dip it in formaldehyde
and maybe it’s the dope that got me cl!cking
and maybe it’s the c0ke that got me trippin
i don’t give a f-ck i guess i’ll let it ride
i go the f-ck to my car and grab my nickel plated nine
n0body understand, get them demons off of me
reality got a hold on tree, p-ss the p

- graveyard productions

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