Ragu GRIP (Ft. Stray Anthony)

[Intro: GRIP]
Hahaha, trip, ahaha

[Verse 1: GRIP]
Uh, in the studio pullin' all-nighters
Cook up 'til my wrist lock up like arthritis
Moms brightest, dads secret
But turned out half decent
We used to smoke before school and walk in class reeking
Gettin' faded-faded now conversations 'bout them Jordans that came out the past weekend
The other kids used to boast and chatter
I was like the first step on the social ladder
But nowadays only the vocals matter
Smoke and laughter on my conscience
And no, I'm not pro conscious
I'm more-so no-nonsense
'Cause if the kids fill up they torn souls with your content
Then bless they pour souls
If my kitchen [?], then it's money, clothes
Guns and hoes, cars, and more hoes, and more hoes
More clothes, and more clothes
The wardrobes of the rich and famous
Rather these vivid paintin's than the miscellaneous disarrayment from an ignoramus
To busy rippin' stages, now my gut say we disengagin'
Just at different points in our life, like we was different ages
This here's my diary, y'all, and I'm just flippin' pages
This here's my diary, y'all, and I'm just flippin' pages