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lirik lagu grave digger – shoebox baby & scorey

[intro: shoebox baby]
huh? what? c’mon (ayy what’s good trou?)
yeah, slatt, slatt, it’s box
uh*huh, uh*huh, uh*huh
c’mon (boom, boom, boom)
yeah, slatt (it’s box)

[chorus: scorey & shoebox baby]
uh, i be with some steppas, grave diggers, made n*ggas, uh (bro dig his grave)
right now i’m with shh— can’t say his name, he slayed n*ggas (can’t say his name)
asked the opps , “why we call big bro perfect?” aim, n*gga
bro asked they block like why they be feeling all his pain in ’em, uh (all his pain)
pull up and dump in the rain, and i post up wit’ the same n*ggas, uh (ah, grah, grah)
since we got money and fame, don’t give a f*ck, it ain’t change n*ggas, uh (n*ggas all the same)
we got the low, we stayed, think with his d*ck, now his brain missin’ (his d*ck, now his brain)
he went and bought him a chain, but we still see the lame in him (uh, uh, it’s box)
[verse 1: shoebox baby]
i know covid passed, but we still in the trenches, wearin’ covid masks (mask)
they opps be calling my phone (d*mn), talkin’ ’bout they slamming off on the show they act (slatt, slatt)
headshot, face shot (what?), d*mn, his block over man (gone)
he on ig lackin’, talkin’ ’bout bodies (uh*huh), he own’ post his ass (real, real)
cold as sh*t, he got paperwork (uh*huh), you better show that sh*t (better thow that)
she wanna be wifey, if you like me, let my homie hit (no, no, no)
i bought bro’nem drugs (uh*huh), guns, clothes, they don’t owe me sh*t (what? what? it’s box)
if we in the club and you got a pole, you better blow that b*tch (bow, bow, bow)
i’on like to talk at all ’cause it ain’t nothing to talk about
we not from ****, if you from there, then f*ck it, chalk ’em down
you ever caught an opp and let off shots, but you ain’t walk ’em down?
lil’ bro caught a body, packed his bag, we goin’ out of town

[chorus: scorey]
uh, i be with some steppas, grave diggers, made n*ggas, uh (bro dig his grave)
right now i’m with shh— can’t say his name, he slayed n*ggas (can’t say his name)
asked the opps , “why we call big bro perfect?” aim, n*gga
bro asked they block like why they be feeling all his pain in ’em, uh (all his pain)
pull up and dump in the rain, and i post up wit’ the same n*ggas, uh (ah, grah, grah)
since we got money and fame, don’t give a f*ck, it ain’t change n*ggas, uh (n*ggas all the same)
we got the low, we stayed, think with his d*ck, now his brain missin’ (his d*ck, now his brain)
he went and bought him a chain, but we still see the lame in him
(that n*gga lame)

[verse 2: scorey]
gave ’em steppas, a green light, then he seein’ pipes
man that lil’ n*gga sleep tight (bah)
.23 wit’ a beam right, and it feel nice even though that my jeans tight (though my jeans tight)
hit his block wit’ them [?], not no school n*gga, i’m a stay in the field type (stay in the field type)
pull up, hit him, and that’s steel type
it’s a feel n*ggas that’s gon’ know what that feel like (b*tch)
uh, he gon’ hit the floor when that flrr go up (flrr*flrr)
score be all red so just watch where you walk (uh)
mentionin’ scorey, they gon’ put him truck (gon’ put him in truck)
you goin’ to war and that sh*t gon’ cuff (that sh*t gon’ cuff)
i don’t got time to be cuffin’ no wh0res, that sh*t be so borin’ when they want to talk (just want to talk)
he just be telling you all of them stories of us, he a corn, that lil’ n*gga soft (what?)
he got his sh*t opened up like a door, they hit ’em wit’ force, they ain’t even knock (they ain’t even knock)
i know when n*gga got hit from up close, they crazy part is they ain’t even walk (they ain’t even–)
got me a lil’ b*tch, she gon’ give us the low and she don’t even care about doin’ no cops (doin’ no cops)
take down gang we just got us a glock (brrah)
chase down, aim, we got hit on his top (brrt, brrt)
[chorus: scorey]
uh, i be with some steppas, grave diggers, made n*ggas, uh (bro dig his grave)
right now i’m with shh— can’t say his name, he slayed n*ggas (can’t say his name)
asked the opps , “why we call big bro perfect?” aim, n*gga
bro asked they block like why they be feeling all his pain in ’em, uh (all his pain)
pull up and dump in the rain, and i post up wit’ the same n*ggas, uh (ah, grah, grah)
since we got money and fame, don’t give a f*ck, it ain’t change n*ggas, uh (n*ggas all the same)
we got the low, we stayed, think with his d*ck, now his brain missin’ (his d*ck, now his brain)
he went and bought him a chain, but we still see the lame in him
(that n*gga lame)

- shoebox baby scorey

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