This is a song about "Grip"

I'm ill when i spit and killin' with grip, no bitch hug

But a couple shots of it got a nigga on stuck

Maybe praying to god didn't work so he's now got the devil's grip.

Swallow the cinnamon, i'mma scribble this sin and shit

A deep slit, watch pools of blood drip losing himself can't get a grip

Homie will never love her, although he'll probably have a fit

I admit i inflict pain on you with my grip

Yea i’m on that ball shit, boy you with that soft shit

And i'm still high, so i'm tryna dip

Blunt in my mouth and my hand on the grip

And twistin wisdom to grip submission

We pray while we prey on competition

Rare shit, trend setting yea i be the best

You speakin bullshit, your grip in life has to end

But it seems like a scene outta flick

Body count is high, when i grip the mic