Grip Grand Love-drama
(Adlibs)
Verse 1:
You know my album got pushed back for months,
My royalties are still captured,
I got dissed on the Net—I guess now I'm a real rapper!
With my haphazard delivery, no hot beats to speak of,
I couldn't beat up the mic with a brick tucked in each
glove.
My AV-club recording was boring,
Snoring like sleeping pills,
And Grip swallowed six in the morning to delete my
skills,
My tired loops, and my four-track.
I'm like every wack rapper you ever heard of, but more
wack.
Don't buy it! My album, that is—you won't like it.
Every sample you'll recognize,
'Cuz the fans are all cool psychic record guys.
I mean, I am, too, man, I'd never lie.
My whole albums's a jack.
Impeach the President? Yo, how done is that?
Tribute to early rap? DIY ethic?
No, a piss-poor producer—take my name off the credits.
Shouldn't have let 'em put out my demo,
I should've said "Listen, don't.
My friends understand why it sucks, but the critics
won't!"
It isn't a cheap shot—my whole style is weak spots.
Infuriating, leave 'em steamin' like a teapot!
Gab Wiz, my high-pitched sidekick? He's bad biz.
"Alter-ego? Yo, that's him! He think he Madlib!"
I'm doin' it wrong, unless I'm tryin' to ruin the song—
If that's the case, then my career is really movin'
along.
I'm no Edan, MF Doom, Thirstin' Howl and shit,
Or all the other lo-fi rappers whose styles I bit.
I'm just Grip—thanks for noticing.
Thanks for your time.
We don't see eye-to-eye, but it ain't 'cuz you're
blind.
And, yo, thanks for the inspiration, if not the
dissent.
I guess it wasn't a total waste of the promo I sent.
I bet you probably could rock it better with your own
mic.
I know it sucks to get a free CD that you don't like.
I make the music for myself. I guess I should've kept
it that way,
And listened to my wack tape alone inside of my Bat-
cave.
You're so astute, bra. Every minute flaw, you heard it.
Can't wait to hear your album…
It must be perfect!
