GRIEVANCE LETTER ft. BondMoney Brikfare Lyrics

If I love you

You ain't gotta question if I'm loyal

I'm standing on it

Ten toes planted in the soil

People asking when I'm dropping

Like some popping oil

I tell em let a nigga cook

I brought it to a boil

I was broke without a handout owed to me

Eighteen racks is what the game gods showed to me

Since that day kept seeing mo professor olgavee

Now I'm addicted to the bread

It's the loaf for me

Gave the game my all

She ain't return the favor

Heart full of hatred loading up the banger

Suicidal thoughts occupy the spaces

I know I said ill never change

But I feel the changes

Nigga do you know the feeling

Dealing with some anger

But can't directed at nobody

Less you victim blaming

My reflection in the mirror

Got my heart racing

Unfamiliar as I'm looking at familiar faces

Question god & his motives

He don't ever say shit

I put the effort in myself

Ain't no sense in praying

Heard it's demons time at midnight

But imma make it

Keep it on me while I'm sleeping

Like this shit a blanket

Grievance letter

You lied to my face

Misguided by deception

I perceived as love

I tucked away a lot of people

They was geeks to us

Im all in tryna knock you off your feet

You ain't dropped a drip of blood

For that gang that you speaking of

Im on the high way to hell

Speeding in a chevy

Mama always told me

Not all roads leads to heaven

My tolerance too high

That's why Im on it heavy

I said my tolerance too high

That's why I pour up heavy

Glock thirty in my jeans

You's a scary pants

Devil gigging on the floor

Would you dare the dance?

And its death before dishonor

Ya honor Im honest

Feds tryna cancel Christmas

Muhammad Muhammad

Im with the Bs

I can't trust lil baby

She got the niche sweats

Gotta drop and double back to do a heat check

Go ahead and tell yo story nigga ps

Study hard tho

Do your homework

Before you niggas name drop me

And its safe to say

Brick got the game popping

We up two minus none

Do the math problem

Get the gassing out the low Asap rock

Shit trip like the eighties

We gone push the rate

Suckas sending death threats

And took it to the grave

Stood over and missed his head

Because he looked away

And folks ain't even do the crime

But he took the case

For the fam purpose

Chances make champions

But was that chance worth it

Wash my hands if you don't never get your hands dirty

Don't claim a body

How you get a man murdered

You understand urkel?

Its bondmoney nigga

Mafia