Schoolboy Q, BMac the Queen, Tyga - Grab the Mic lyrics

Yeah gED, oh boy
Can't be reconciling ill Will exclusive

We got that front, back, side to side
Lean with it, rock with it
Burner might pop with it
Illest in the game, GED with the flame (Q)

First off, let me get this shit cleared
Any nigga talk, prolly get his shit smeared
Back in the trunk, next to the pumps
Had you floating in the ocean
Now you trashed by the dumps
Nifty fifty gang, I was raised in the slumps
Pockets so fat like it's raised by the Klumps
Any nigga that want it, get it
He can get fitted from long range
No game, nigga we bring the pain
ScHoolboy and one letter, you know the name
Kill what? If he doubt it, you know the game
Reload, cock back and let it bang


Pill round, no leash, I'm never tamed
Been around the world
Whole world know I got cream
No lie, I'm the best at this rap thing
No pen and I still make the trench scream
Shitting on the mic and wipe my
Ass with the pop scream
Who Q? yeah, he the rap king
Big Mac? yeah, she the rap queen
Hate thongs? yeah, I know they beat me
And my nigga Top gon' be the
Reason why you a crack fiend
God damn, fuck I need to rap for
Order anything and I still make the trap go

Front, back, side to side
Lean with it (Hahhh)

We got that front, back, side to side
Lean with it, rock with it
Burn the mic, pop with it

I'm the queen of the game
You already know my name
Haters gotta love it 'cause my
Swag is super high super dope, super fresh
And the way I dress is super fly
But I ain't really come here
To talk about that
I'm just trying to show these all
Niggas that I can rap
Spit a little crack on the track, fall back
If you didn't know the name
Now you know it's B-Mac
Hit him from the H to the double O, D
You ain't from the hood if
You ain't heard about me
Pocket full of cheese, Six Fours on these
So please
You don't really want beef with the Queen
Got a couple thugs on the payroll
Spraying when I say so, lay low
You don't want problems
Plus I got a car and a crib I don't pay for
Cased close
You don't really want no drama chill
I'm loved in the hood 'cause I keeps it real
Loved in the burbs 'cause my crib's on a hill
And I ain't even say that I'm rich
If a trick wanna trip
Then the cap get peeled quick
I be on that real shit
And I know I got that ill spit
Worked about a meal tick
Can't nobody do it like I do, ya dig?

Front, back, side to side
Stick this in your Ipod
I promise this you'll like
Beyond your fly, take the mic

Lean with it, rock with it
You say I'm not with it
Take a man, he pop with it
Let's see you album, pop, get 'em
No introduction
Fuckin' his sister with seduction
Couple of familiar Russians
Rushing to touch it
All my busters loving this club, bitch Usher
Oh sure, sex brosure
Chick get skeeted in your Kitty Couture
Oh you on tour? So you perform?
How about you let me fuck you, straight form
Next morn', leave in a cab
Car, sir, this is the pad
How can they argue?
I'm marketable in a market
That you're marching into
Crazy Compton, Dina Carson, I be roaming
Couple of homies
Money I'm moaning, we spend it like nothing
'Cause music be keeping it coming
Young Money, younger with money
Skin tag, my life is so lovely
I'm not worried about nothing
Forgetting every dollar I'm getting

I get 'em front, back, side-to-side
Lean with me, ride with me
Low lying, Tyga put me on so

Bear with me, here I come
I be the broad, not to be broad with
You act her Liz, but I know you harmless
GD not the squad to play hard with
If you planning to, I'm Hannibal
Like where's your carcass
You be talking rank, kiss it, let me sergeant
You be talking Spanish, consider me Martian
You be talking names, consider me Carmine
Whoever say they better than Gronk
Tell them forfeit
They don't want it with me like Sam-IAm
They don't want it with the tea
Like green eggs and ham
Would you like it on the plane?
Would you like it on the train?
Would you like it on a boat?
Freaks like the deep throat
Haters like to get choked
You ain't getting every dollar, get broke
If you ain't poppin' this off, get low
This shit right here wet, get soaked
I push you from the front back, get dome
They spit, crackers spit low
God MC, call me Loc
Got all the fans like hold my notes
Take one hit at a time, don't overdose
One dime though, don't overload (Oh my god)