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lirik lagu detour – grip

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[intro]
let’s do it
you gotta think about what we got in this game for, man
huh? was it the rep? was it so our names could ring out on some f*ckin’ ghetto street corners, man? nah, man, this game’s beyond the f*ckin’ ink
yup, the detour
[i caught his kids?]

[verse 1]
uh, back on my sh*t, coolin’ it with my hooligans
as if we skippin’ school and sippin’ booze again
how y’all [?] lackin’ exuberance
manoeuvrin’ through [?] with barracudas, went huntin’ for food again
cooler than most n*ggas
i never been the type to boast and post pictures
rather compose scriptures that grows figures and [?] swishers
walked through parking lots and heard car doors lock a lot
now i’m the sh*t, i should cop a squat
got hip*hop n*ggas on choppin’ block like rabbit and papa doc
my [?] so sudden it flip*flopped and [?]
i missed them days as a youngin’ an awful lot
when i used to rock a [?], when my hair was faded
now i’m the topic of conversation at barber shops
why you guess i’m takin’ off the top ’bout how sick i am off the top
sounded like the old school, some sh*t that you should see more
then on my way to the top i just took the detour
we make the show stop, you on the road to riches
we the road block, better close shop
make sure your windows and yo doo’s locked
[?] and we ’bout to blow like c4
we just took the roadless travel, the detour
[chorus]
the*the*the detour
the*the detour
the*the*the detour
we just took the roadless travel, the detour

[verse 2]
they yellin’ “encore”
concrete jungle where they k!llin’ for [?], 3s, and concords
better have a bodyguard [?], word to kevin costner
i spit that ghetto gospel, they like preach “why you pick up that mask and rob? go get your ass a job. you and your all your fellas’ broke, runnin’ round tellin’ folk that you sellin’ dope”
thought about the aftermath when n*ggas realise that you rein’*up on zips, you and your partner split half*and*half
that sh*t sad but i have to laugh, school of hard knocks
he ain’t even pass the class with your rappin’ ass
y’all scribblin’ fiction, this sh*t’s an addiction
this food for thought i fixed in the kitchen
i force feed you this dish ’til you listen
b*tch n*ggas poisin’ minds
before i do that, i’ll end up in unemployment lines
i’m that real, don’t get your cap peeled with verbal ammo
y’ain’t ever heard of rambo?
sat in the four corner room starin’ at burnin’ candles
shoutout to scarface, came a long way from rappin’ in all those bas*m*nt and [?]
switched lanes but ain’t sh*t changed
twelve’ll still pull you over for a dark face
i’m contemplatin’ a car*chase while [partakin’?] dumber*down of a generation
pardon me, i’m just ventilatin’
no need for vindication, i’m demonstratin’ traits of a mental patience
whip out this rap sh*t when you was still stencil tracin’
i had a notepad and a trashcan full of pencil shavings
so yeah, i been amazin’
but in the [?], imitatin’ future is what get you radio play on any station
and this is not a diss, but n*ggas treated me like i did not exist
back when i was poor without a pot to p*ss
now i’m k!llin’ sh*t, [?] my accomplices
used to call me conscious, now they constant with the compliments
it’s common sense my confidence is sponsorin’ my prominence
now i’ve conjured up these thoughts of conquerin’ the continent
dominance, gave you my two*cents for what it’s worth
now have a safe trip back to earth, the martian

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