At What Cost? - Grip

There’s some confusion about nooses

Guess our lessons ain’t been learned

There’s a contusion in our music

Guess our trauma our ain’t been

I realize my sacrifice

Don’t mean shit to my masters burn

All of this shit down to the ground

Until ownership gets its turn

We been rapping for pennies for half of a century

Laughing to mask the fact that I’m basking in envy

Mastered the craft now they use my masters against me

Advance me some cash after taxes I’m practically empty

Slowly losing my passion the path of an emcee

Got me gasping passing the Henny and grasping the semi

Niggas think cause I dropped a classic I’m doing better

Like I got a slew of cheddar

If only you knew my thoughts of pursuing a new endeavor

They saying Grip you can’t give up on the music never

I quit is something you could never say

It’s funny, they act like I just started rapping yesterday

Fact of the matter is, you niggas just started pressing play

I met a man who’s pupils were dollar signs

He made a deal that promised I won’t be forgot in time

But here’s the catch

Every single rhyme you jot is mine, not a problem, fine

Just put your name on this dotted line

There’s some confusion about nooses

Guess our lessons ain’t been learned

There’s a contusion in our music

Guess our trauma our ain’t been

I realize my sacrifice

Don’t mean shit to my masters burn

All of this shit down to the ground

Until ownership gets its turn

Product of the madness sold as product to the masses

From poverty we bastards so we flashing in high fashion

Never learned cash money so when earned cash money

We burned cash money, ghetto stars turned crash dummies

In foreign cars, that’s leased and Audemars with links

We had to buss down for all them times a nigga had to bus it

Spent like half the budget to put some gas in the bucket

Down to your last like fuck it if I was a lad who’s dad had duckets

Would I give this biz the green light

If I knew the words I sing might put me on a string like puppets

Controlled by japeto from ghetto to ghetto

Kiss your hood goodbye and tell Hollywood hello

But old habits die hard and where I’m from we die young

Cause we can’t let bygones be bygones so we buy guns

And when you caught slipping, they gone make a killing off your killing

And the cycle continues for your children, damn

There’s some confusion about nooses

Guess our lessons ain’t been learned

There’s a contusion in our music

Guess our trauma our ain’t been

I realize my sacrifice

Don’t mean shit to my masters burn

All of this shit down to the ground

Until ownership gets its turn