Grizz Gutta - Memphis To The Grave Lyrics

Grew up where the grind ain't optional, potholes swallow ya,
Choppers sing a song, turn the block into an opera.
Bluff City militant, move like a general,
.40 by the liver, got a heart full of minerals.
9-0-1 where the sun set crooked,
Soul full of blues, but the drum kick wicked.
Pimpin' out the Caddy, swangin' like a pendulum,
Catch me in the cut like stitches on a criminal.
Hustle out the mud, ain't no love in the district,
Only thing holy is the beam on a biscuit.
Liquor store churches, junkies by the steeple,
Mama prayin' nightly but the devil feed my people.
Swervin' through the North, keep the iron like a blacksmith,
Everybody bosses 'til they fold on some rat shit.
Niggas slangin' Fent like a reverend sellin' hope,
If you slip, you gettin' zipped, wrapped tight like a coat.

Big Grizz, big smoke, big clips, big dope,
Street lights flicker when the choppa let it go.
Dead bodies floatin' where the river keep the flow,
If you ain't from the city, better watch how you approach.
Gutta in my veins, see the stains on the pavement,
Raised in the jungle, it get cold in the basement.
Pray for my sins, but my demons stay adjacent,
Memphis born, Memphis raised, Memphis to the grave, bitch.

Ain't no fairy tales where I'm from, just a casket or a cell,
Every other week a homie postin' "Free the real."
F*ck a rap check, niggas gettin' rich off the 'script,
Doctor push the oxy like he mixin' in the bricks.
South side steppin', got the mud in my cup,
Even pastors pushin' packs, got the work in the trunk.
Ain't no safety in the hood, gotta move like a ghost,
Dope fiends tweakin', hit the pipe, hear 'em croak.
Jookin' in the function, got the glizzy in my denim,
If a sucker move wrong, he gon' sleep with the fishes.
Hunnid-round drum make a symphony of death,
Bitch, we been grimy since the city took its breath.
Drive slow past the spot, eyes low off the za,
Got a plug from the M, he send the packs out to the Chi.
Ridin' in a slab, trunk beat like a charge,
Memphis on my skin, keep the G up in my heart.

River run deep, got the ghosts in the current,
Whispers in the wind, every loss leave a sermon.
Grit in my blood, grind the scars for the lessons,
If the city don't kill me, I'ma die as a legend.
Chrome on my waist, got the South in my spirit,
Hustle like a pimp, but my soul ain't coherent.
Last of a breed, Bluff City's cold son,
Memphis 'til I rot, let the f*ckin' beat run.