Artist: Kool Rock Jay
Album:  Street Life EP
Song:   Brothers Gotta Get a Grip
Typed by: jostmatt at bluewin dot ch

A brother's gotta get a grip
Yeah

[ VERSE 1: Kool Rock Jay ]
In the '90s, fool, I ain't jokin
So straight up and down you find I'm mic-smokin
Handle your business, bro, hold your own
Cause now I got a jones to rock a microphone
I kick the dope material that bumps on the stereo
Suckers are fragile and crunch like cereal
But I don't sling cocaine or gangbang
When usin your brain in this game you won't hang
So clean up your act, step back and take notes
Don't approach the coach, you roach, cause I'm straight dope
So when I beat ya and heat ya and feed ya
Something so dope that I know it's gonna reach ya
I pack more places than suitcases
You're stuck in oasis of smiles and cute faces
That's how we did it in the '91
I'm havin fun shinin bright like the sun

[ VERSE 2: Kool Rock Jay ]
So let's kick the beat across the street
Into the playground
And let the bass go lay down
Play a couple of games of ball
Bustin raps from the head, makin beats on the wall
It ain't nothin to do but chill
But life is so real and this ain't a drug deal
They got my homies on the crack thing
Politicians play games and they claim that it's a black thing
When they started it all
Sayin we all sell drugs, kill our own and drink 8Ball
You need to chill with that bullshit
Because a real brother ain't nothin to fool with
It ain't what you act like, it's what you mack like
So do your whole thing, I got my own swing
I bust raps and serve sucker MC's
Clockin G's as I shoot the breeze

[ VERSE 3: Kool Rock Jay ]
I got real nice things, nice cars
The well known rapper but I'm not a star
So tell me why the c-o-p's, they get behind me
Cut on they red and blue lights and try to blind me
Bumrush my ride, somethin like a SWAT team
An everyday routine, it's nothin but a cop scheme
To jack a young brother, you know
But my game is strong and I'm still the wrong color, so
Fans demand me, cops wanna send me
Straight to the pen, but they can't apprehend me
A kilo of cocaine just ain't my game
I smoke micros, to hell where the pipe goes
And always talkin that he-say-she-say
'Bout the K, the double o, the l R-o-c-k
But then again you understand the point
I rock parties, I'm the joint