Verse 1:
Strictly ill shit, rhythms get hidden kid, real quick
Bill Grease the mick with SW sticks, it all clicks
Spitting like ginmills pour liq’s
Sipping a fifth gripping bricks to kids rich
Known to punch dummies who like to wave money
Stealing honeys by the tonny, slick talk and gin rummy
It’s all good – another unaffordable neighborhood
Where yoga pants tramps sip white wine, I shine to em
I rhyme to em, yo, it’s over their heads, but they smell bread
It ended in bed, kid enough said
A hundred rapper’s what it takes to read one book
Gold chains click when a neck gets shook
I’m not the one, turn around before I sick the hounds on ya
Pound for pound, kid can rattle like a dozen cobras
Alligator skin boots that’s my destiny
Kids with gold teeth reek of dirty brown celery
2004 Grand AM, door smashed in
Desiccated bones, rolled thin with the wax in em
Carved oars to make swords, shit’s unfair
Kids waving steel get their wigs peeled like Nair
Plumb dumb stupid, shot a dozen Cupids
Stick ain’t missed, it’s what it is, kid ruthless
Sweeps got the bundle from the Nicks the kid’ll
Never do a bid, he keep it hid like the educated rich
Hook:
Eyo, it’s Bill Grease, the kid Sweeps murdering beats
Making feats wearing sleeves of mink, gold cufflinks clink
Raising drinks, kids see pink
Jack-boot rappers think their shit don’t stink, it’s what it is
People up in ya biz, couple grand handlers
Hammers and sticks, while you stammer and shit, how your rhymes lit
Shut up kid quick, Grease was never here
Throats clear right before the kid spits
Yo! Yo I can’t believe Raekwon Don was at the Bennigan’s
Ice water avalanches, blanche white lighting on the grip again
Shit-wilted rappers talking drip again
C’mon man, yo the same damn shit again?
I’m wherever there’s a liquor bottle opening
Cold prose, toking, holding rope, cutting cloth different
Phoenician purple-vision Tyrian inks
Yo, we frosted up the girlies they been begging for minks
Yo my snub nose cackles at the eyes that blink
Patter-rap, smack the shit out ya clap-trap links
Kid don’t think, gimme all the shin-plaster, faster
‘fore my blaster leave a hole mighty fine distinct
Beyond the pale shit, albino state of mind
Chewing to the rind, kids a few drinks behind get shot dead
Head crack attacks matter fact we black bread
We jack the cred, walking women to their beds
Hook:
Eyo, it’s Bill Grease, the kid Sweeps murdering beats
Making feats wearing sleeves of mink, gold cufflinks clink
Raising drinks, kids see pink
Jack-boot rappers think their shit don’t stink, it’s what it is
People up in ya biz, couple grand handlers
Hammers and sticks, while you stammer and shit, how your rhymes lit
Shut up kid quick, Grease was never here
Throats clear right before the kid spits
