B-Guy Griffin - Prologue (Intro to "Organized Rhyme Family") Lyrics

Yo I ain't your typical punk
I'm not a baller that's hittin' a dunk
I'm too materialistic for monk
Plus I hit on the skunk
Like Pepe Le Pew
And I'm a bit of a drunk
So I be gettin it crunk
I mean I'm just a local rapper in a bit of a slump
But I got fans around the world and that's been liftin me up
I heard I'm never gonna pop with all the lyrical stuff
And I ain't conscious enough I don't do political junk
Thinkin' maybe I should make some kinda character up
So I could let him go and pick the double darringer up
Buryin arrogant cunts out somewhere in the mud
Removin any kind of finger prints, hair, and the blood
Gonna mortify minds with this Organized Rhyme shit
Borderline lyin it'd be sorta like my Slim
Sure I might die but it's worth the time tryin'
To unearth some kinda diamond
Clears throat
We're done bein' the realest rappers you know
You know who we are so lets remove the R
And shit we're still the illest rappers you know
But we'll be cappin too so we gon' peel a cap or two though
On some Martin Scorsese meets Quentin Tarantino
For an album with the vibe of The Sopranos TV show
We don't need a HBO
Or label CEO
Cause the way we flow
Gonna make the CD go
Crazy in the streets, Spotify, and Radio
For the Gottis, Lucianos, the Capones, and the Gambinos
We the new Rob Deniro, Joe Pesci, Al Pacino
This our Goodfellas, Godfather, Scarface, and Casino
I'm just tryna stack my c-notes
Sip a glass of pinot
Script on a typewriter tryna plan a scene out
We about to make some M's changin what "M" means now
From "Music" to "Mafia" in G. House
Think about it

You f*ckin with the Griffin House Mafia
A slug's what I got for ya
My gun kept it hot for ya
I'll smoke you like tilapia
Chop you up and toss you in the ocean
With the octopus and dead police officers
It's obvious there ain't no one stoppin us
We went from rock bottomers to real block conquers
Hide you in the concrete, build tall monuments
Real talk, monstrous
Wife at home cookin up a meal some kinda pasta dish
With mozzarella and marinara sauce in it
Otherwise it's lobster, shrimp, steak
You know we mobster rich
The only thing we broke is bones and promises
Who cares what Congress says
I paid off plenty chairs in offices
Corrupted politics
The Don's the mayor of all this
And we been passin bills I'm talkin envelopes of dollars
Takin' care of problems I'mma pop em like my collar
I'm a dog off the leash I'm a f*ckin rotweiler
Riggin IPO's I'm a lucky stockpiler
Tradin inside information with a couple top buyers
All the money got wired
To the made man standin here
I make a couple hundred racks a year
Bein' a racketeer
Come to my establishment
Have a beer
We don't let no bugs, don't got no rats in here
And we don't let no cameras near the Griffin House
We gon make a toast soon as the family's here
If you get too close we'll have to show you to the man upstairs
Have your prayers in order if you ever make me mad I swear
I'll break your neck and noose you to a fan above a plastic chair
Or I'll throw you to the wolves or feed your ass to bears
So if you rat, beware
House Gang