Aasim - South Rd lyrics

In this country, one guy get the items
And the other guy, pays 'em
No ticky, no laundry
Let's go to Southside Queens right now
Grind Music, Wize G lakewood, come on

Uh, uh, senseless
School is never where I learned my lessons
Rooftoops with boomboxes where
My searches ended
Famous, I wanted ever since my
Mind could think it
Handcuffed in the back of
Impalas fo' public drinkin'
If Grind Music ain't discover me
I'd pro'ly be a alchi in recovery
Now I'm just a addict with a one to three
Contractor bring back the suckеr free
Game in a choke 'til the
Brokе niggas live comfortably
In the back of a dollar van
With the gats and a driver, man
Thinkin' 'bout my mama, I just
Need a couple dollars, man i'ma honest
And I try to be the hardest worker
Even though my pro'lems bigger
I just got a life preserver
Man the streets is cold
Every day it's three below
And in a week or so
I might just be with Keyshia Cole
My story is told, walkin' down glory's road
Grindin' forever you could tell
By my dirty toes

I walk a good mile, I wear a good shoe
I might just be wild, I might be brand new
I talk with such style
My voice is clear blue
My mic sound nice, I check ya one, two
And uh, one, two, and uh
If you feelin' like a gangsta, bust ya hammer
If you livin' a hustler, know the grammar
And if you struggle like I
Struggle, then up them matters, go

Vicious, I do my murder
Smooth like blowin' kisses
My flow is known fo' switchin'
Prone to give you motion sickness
The mic's the murder weapon
Me myself's a cold defendant
Exotic voice box
Melodic tone disturb ya senses
In front of curbs and fences
Stash up a perfect sentence
Trigger with urgent stressors
Sellin' the herbal essences
Aasim, a verbal menace, ghetto or mechanic
Servin' to wear my annex
And my whole persona matches
That of a soldier, schizophrenic
The newest bandit
Spit in a ya food, a savage
In a mood to prove my madness
Dunny, the money is funny in my pockets now
I move in silence every
Promise microscopic now
I make the honeys smile
The profile is somethin' wow
I came for nothin' 'bout a mother gutter
What a style
Just a humble child hustle fo' the crumbs
I'm tryna run 'em down
Hopin' that the streets won't try
To gun 'em down

I walk a good mile, I wear a good shoe
I might just be wild, I might be brand new
I talk with such style
My voice is clear blue
My mic sound nice, I check ya one, two
And uh, one, two, and uh
If you feelin' like a gangsta, bust ya hammer
If you livin' a hustler, know the grammar
And if you struggle like I
Struggle, then up them matters, go