Dem Grits (Street)

[Verse 1: The Bad Seed]
Yo, my frame has the stained paint from the freight train
Maintain, my name hold weight like a jaw weight gain
You know it’s on when I go insane, pump flame, and take aim
(The Bad Seed, y’all) Yo, that’s the same as the shit that ain’t changed
Peace to rap niggas, DJs, and kids who paint trains
B-boys and b-girls, peace. We’re in the same game
Drama? I’m in it strong. Beef? Let’s get it on
Ain’t enough cliques on the clock to drop the cats I shitted on
Think I’m lying? Catch me. Ain’t no rapper breathing that match me
Actually been writing it raw since I was a latchkey
Got them niggas trying to axe me, their broads trying to fax me
I’m high, empty your blunts in backseats of taxis
Ask me if I give a fuck so I can smile and say, “No”
Got an innocent grill—chill, far from a halo
Stay high three-sixty-five, keep it live. Know I
Still beef with your style and them corny names you go by
And how it don’t fit you. Swift is the way Seed hit you
It’s war on your fam and whoever else you brought with you
(Grits) The type of drama that I’m bringing be official (Uh huh)
(Uh huh, uh huh) Go wipe your nose, get the tissues
I said, “Grits”

[Hook: Meat Pie and DP One Scratches] (x2)
I’ll take bits and pieces, pieces and bits
Combine them all together to make some hot shit
Release lyrics from the tongue, that sound that toxic
All up in your face like them grits

[Verse 2: The Bad Seed]
Get on some Al Green shit, small, wild teen shit
Y’all niggas talking to heat the drama, but it don’t mean shit
Style dirty as old drawers—y’all on some clean shit
Body you cold-blood, have the team on some gangsta lean shit
Your eyes is virgins when it comes to drama: ain’t seen shit
Niggas is mad I’ll stand out like a bitch with green tits
Ask me ‘bout the shit I’m spitting, I’ll say, “Nigga, these grits”
(Hot shit) Blurry your vision like some Visine drips
(The Bad Seed) You ain’t know that? That’s some shit to hold back
I’ll go back to the days of flattops when I first sold crack
Hoping when I could finally cop [?] and tote MACs
But the older cats laughed and tried to give me no dap
But who would know that, all beneath, I’d eventually own that
Now I’m lacing formats: the wax, DATs, and all that
Everything out my mouth is all fat. Like, for example
Your shorty’s waiting by the phone for me to call back
And what you call that? (Them grits)

[Hook: Meat Pie and DP One Scratches] (x2)
I’ll take bits and pieces, pieces and bits
Combine them all together to make some hot shit
Release lyrics from the mouth, that sound that toxic
All up in your face like them grits

[Verse 3: The Bad Seed]
With all of my being, I despise you
I even have dreams of ways to brutalize you
Jump out from behind of a tree and surprise you. And show and prove
That you pussy to all the cats around your way that idolize you
Stomp iron vocals, flows move in NY
Lick off a shot for cats that’s locked or maybe dad that did crime
Type nigga to wile out and, in rhyme, do some next shit
Like the Moonwalk to snatch your necklace. And the iced-out
Rolly is on the checklist. Flossing up on them poor
Niggas like me is reckless (No question). You out of place
Like Eddie Murphy in the West and reach for your guns (Yee-haw!)
Walking like we drunk but (We high!)
Me and my team half-baked, thugged out, [?]
Bugged out, glass tapes. If we’re Makin’ vinyl
Within your collection, you got to ask crate
“Oh, you got one? (Phew). That’s great.” Operate
Off the run-and-gun offense, effective on the fast break
Hit you with that River Phoenix shit that make that ass shake
You ain’t got the balls to beef ‘cause most’ll chop or castrate
Throw up your hands. Y’all niggas just don’t understand
Got plans, give a fuck about you or your mans
We could settle it in the street or on stage in front of fans
(I’ll take it back like) Like the bum on some cans. I’ll run with
My fam. My style hot and now my tongue got a tan
Done seen all. Now I just don’t believe y’all
You’re out your mind trying to bring it to The Bad Seed, y’all
(Who’s bad?) Yo, evil eye with a c-rag
It’s your mother’s baby father, but y’all niggas knew that
I said, “Grits”

[Hook: Meat Pie and DP One Scratches]
I’ll take bits and pieces, pieces and bits
Combine them all together to make some hot shit
Release lyrics from the dome, that sound that toxic
All up in your face like them grits
I’ll take bits and pieces, pieces and bits
Combine them all together to make some hot shit
Release lyrics from the dome, that sound that toxic
All up in your face like them grits
I’ll take bits and pieces, pieces and bits
Combine them all together to make some hot shit
Release lyrics from the dome, that sound that toxic
All up in your face like them grits
I’ll take bits and pieces, pieces and bits
Combine them all together to make some hot shit
Every time you hear Meat Pie, you know it’s some fly shit
All up in your face like them grits
All up in your face like them grits

[Outro: The Bad Seed and DP One Scratches]
Yeah. DP One. DP One. Word up. Peace to my nigga Big Kaya. Word up. DP One, Run Run Shaw break y’all jaw. We out