Nick Grant – Luxury Vintage Rap lyrics

[Verse 1]
All you rap niggas running in place
Nothing to say you such a disgrace
I don’t want it easy baby, it’s the love of the chase
Life’s a wet dream niggas a kill you and come to your wake
My demeanor fly Benny Medina high as Chris Tucker’s eyes
When watching Al Greene but the game changed they cross dress
Rim offset I’m a dog marrying me Miss Lady is farfetched
Run Simmons leathers the MC never lost
I’m cut from Biggie’s Coogi sweater cloth
“X” marks the spot I pray we never cross
Drug dealer thoughts inspired by Raw Report
Unruly Italian Cut suits I’m such a mulli
Ferrari with the bubble booty never hug a groupie
Francis Ford dope enough I’m a seduction movie
Quick to bust like when a baby clutch an uzi

[Verse 2]
I don’t believe the devil came as a snake
Why would he come as something you naturally hate
I got fine taste Get it
Why wait. Shooter keep the 30 like a 9-5 break
Shit get ugly as Strangé
Diamonds shine on my Bitch call it a blind date
Everything is high stakes
Can’t wait to get the Rollie with the wide face
I’ma call it Moesha
I ain’t doing features nigga
Triple beam dream these dope fiends get lit
I never compromise my integrity for a hit
My story rag and rich
But funny how when I got the money I never fell off
Give my ring a kiss
Don Shit Keyante sip basking in the ambiance
Listen and get insomnia
Her top left me hanging like a top of palm tree slop me up
In and out her like a robbery bruh

[Verse 3]
High fashion
I’m the newest king of all these rappers
Go head and make a list of who's the wackest
You ran rapid, little one hit wonders were average
That hoe called fame shit you can have her
Pure nigga vernacular
Benz backing up ball player swagger (huh)
Got to stay in tune I’m looney it’s just my character
I go deep in Japanese denim with a freak
English don’t speak any
I made It by the skin if my teeth celebration call it off
(nah) Not tonight no good words for me
I ain't even got a vice
Rob the game we got paper to blow
Niggas hate who they relate to the most
I don’t get it
I’m a star you’ll need forever to reach Nick
Grimm Reaper flirting I can feel death in each kiss
John Lennon vintage no cheap shit you weak shit
Sugar on the kit that’s a sweet lick

Fuck ’em All