Grip – “Placebo” (ft. Royce Da 5’9″) [Audio, Lyrics]

Date 2021-08-30

Category Foreign Music, Lyrics, New Music

Grip features rapper, Royce Da 5’9″ on the “Placebo” song produced by Beat Butcha. Stream, share, enjoy the song.

Grip Placebo

Grip Placebo

Grip – Placebo (ft. Royce Da 5’9″) (prod. Beat Butcha)


[Part I]

[Verse 1: GRIP]
Got a verbal machine gun, you never seen one (Yeah, yeah)
Vocab throw jabs, you thought a bee stung, you thought your shit was heat, huh? (Yeah)
The fuck you get that beat from? Go get a refund (Yeah)
You gotta reload, infinite clips like I got the cheat code
Spittin’ a brick like I copped from Chico
You wasn’t in the mix, you watched through peephole
Starin’ out the window, witnessin’ livin’ at a quicker tempo
But ain’t no reset, this not Nintendo, our life was preset
Dark is a defect, you got the remote, you take your seat yet?
You get to see death all over C notes
I ain’t no preacher, don’t be callin’ me woke, just ain’t been sleep yet
This ain’t for V necks, go get your peacoat, I see your feet cold
Just take a deep breath and watch me heat check all of your heroes
They didn’t heal you, that’s just placebo
I’m just a nappy headed negro aka reject
My alter ego get all the respect, but if you see, bro
Off in the streets, bet your ass would relapse
If you ain’t know that he raps like, fuck the verses, he’ll clutch your purses
My stream of income through a streaming service
If you don’t listen, they gon’ deem me worthless, so I need every purchase (Yeah)
That’s why I’m steady workin’, I’m a heady person
So I go through dry spells, but this shit feel like a levy burstin’ (Yeah)
Open the floodgates, they knew I was special after that Snub tape
Just thought l’d touch base, this is the update

[Part II]

[Verse 2: Royce da 5’9″]
COVID constantly, code red boundaries, how could we
While gossiping, culturally grow responsibly?
Cops or the ops to be cokeheads cop from me
Them hotels got me a protest consciously
Rolex watch on me, feds clockin’ me, we own less
Property, atrocity, mo’ debt, invest stock in the oppressed
Controlling yo’ net-profitting
Told y’all ’bout them Jim Crow laws, that’s more/less prophecy
My bars be trap, my car seat’s back
Against odds, my cards be stacked, my Wall Street black
I dreamt all would pay me in health, it’s degrading to do pilates
Generational wealth, niggas say we Illuminati
To be religiously Christian versus dissettlement
Perfect embezzlement, bitch, we get in, worship the devil, rich
Melanin vibration indebted to God, gracious
They scared of Sanaa Lathan, genetic annihilation, uh
This ain’t what B.I.G. meant when he came and kicked in your door
New whip for niggas that walk, look rich for niggas that’s poor
You bang for niggas that’s soft, new chain for niggas that floss
You sin for niggas, that’s God, you win for niggas, that’s lost all
Them top models come out with the see-through panties
I bleed blue Brandy and Art Basel by the Hebru Brantley’s

[Part III]

[Verse 3: Royce da 5’9″]
Yeah, I’m entitled to whites, so I got Harvard on my app
The ops just be callin’ me light, then [?] falls into my lap
Them execs suspended your record that’ll send you a extra exorcism
So keep your respect, we just reap the regrets of nepotism
I’ll dollar bill you or check, but you got to be specific
I got to keep you in check, so you got to be complicit
From A to Z, only you can compare with the streets
But only we can keep playing musical chairs with the seats

[Verse 4: GRIP]
Yeah, and I’m black, so I got a target on my back
(But where you at?) Atlanta, Georgia, where I started on the map
Was bargainin’ for scraps, they lethargic, I’m bargin’ in for racks
The margin is startlin’, this who you thought was harder with the raps?
What’s the argument? Really ain’t no guardin’ him, in fact
I step back, let it fly, I’m James Harden with the strap
Might just travel wit’ it, to get a shot off in the clutch
We both paid to be the boss, but it ain’t cost you as much
And even bosses get touched, so keep your head on a swivel
And pray you end up at the top and not dead in the middle
Out-of-towners pull up with diamonds and they bezel and dentals
Think shit sweet ’til lil’ niggas pump lead in your rental, ha
Got ’em duckin’ shots, the juggernaut to stuff you in a fuckin’ box
I just checked the mud on top, you dug the plot
I tuck the Glock from which the slugs was popped that struck the ops
Who thought this shit was butterscotch? I’m finna crank this up a notch

Written By

View All Articles

Welcome to MPmania Music, Your one-stop for the best songs around the world. Our music team of music curators are always ready to give you the best.


Drop A Comment