Grand Opening (Remix)

Scratching

Things are done different in my zip code
If you think I'm joking you're sadly mistaken
You wanna rumble? Well you can get crumbled
Today will be the grand opening of your chest

Things are done different in my zip code
If you think I'm joking you're sadly mistaken
You wanna rumble? Well you can get crumbled
Today will be the grand opening of your chest

Yo we done told you that
We out on the frontline
Now the money's coming
Niggas eating like lunchtime
Pazmania, Reef the Tazmanian
Nickelbag niggas ain't know
I'm half-Ukrainian
They slept on Sour Diesel like retards
But this one's the second coming of Isa
Ain't got to tell you about the
Hoods that I'm running at
But come with that shit
Get your wig piece mummy-wrapped
The backyard's where the money's at
You have to have to tell your friend's
Mom her son ain't coming back
That's that shit that I'm talking about
You trying to make it out the hood
Ain't nobody trying to walk it out
It's grand opening, everybody's smoking it
My Cali niggas locing it
Pharaoh niggas focusing
And I ain't in this for the brizzels my nig
But anybody wanna beef I'm
Pistol-whipping their kids

Grand opening, grand closing
I box with metal gloves son the hands golden
I pop whoever stand closest
I rock thousands across oceans
I'm refreshed and I'm focused
I'm the dopest next to my brother Doap it's
OPG, hit you like a swarm of locusts
And we don't even deal with promoters
Just send us the deposit and tell
Us what time the doughs is
I'm not apologetic about how I said it
How powerful the set is or the bar
And how high I set it it's how I get it
Laugh when they ask debit or credit
Then reach in my pocket
Proceed to peel lettuce
Let us bow our heads and rejoice in the light
It's Lost Cauze the most powerful
Voice on the mic
And that's not for discussion
Don't be making assumptions
That's when I Steve Young ‘em
Eight straight to the stomach

You sleeping with the enemy
That's who you in bed with
I'll put your brain matter back to
The edge of the desert
Y'all ain't never gonna win
You just a contestant
The 40 cal dumb loud and bust your intestines
You see it's cold on the dark streets
You a corner store rapper, I'm an artiste
We Official Pistol Gang and we all beasts
I love blood, I don't cook, it's a raw feast
But y'all know how that go
Boriquas, morenos told me that I'm a natural
So I walked in the booth and went wacko
Murdered anybody that ever wanted to battle
I love bitches but they get on my nerves
That's the reason that I send
Em OT for the birds
They can take the L for me
Or I beat em with words
You can catch me chilling on the balc
And see what to serve yeah