"Grand Prix" lyrics - METHOD MAN

[Intro:]
Ah, lord, mm-hmm, yo
Get it
Twenty five years and we still going
Yeah
Dame Grease
He's a bad boy
Look

I'm a smoker (Yeah), weed toker
The cola in your coka
Losing change up in your sofa
I brought change into the culture (Uh)
Funny how these pigeons try and change into a vulture
You's a poser, wit' pork all on your fork and that ain't kosher
No sir, I never put a penny in a loafer
For good times up in the ghetto, we had penny and Willona (Uh)
You know I stretch a quarter, got a rock 'cause I'm a roller
And I'm bolder than a hard rock is 'cause I'm a stoner
I need closure (Uh), and you rappers need to wake up
And smell the begonias
You about to be gones
Big shot caller, I'm here to pop them corners
Little league ballers could get popped, I warned ya
Who put the person in persona, putting hands up on a person
Close the curtain on the Rama
Pack a Llama, catch me lurking I'm your karma
Sleeping on me even worse'll get you murked in your pajamas

[Chorus:]
You can try, but you'll never understand me
I plan to give it to you raw, get a plan B
Y'all be racing to the cash, that's a Grand Prix
I go Ricky Bobby for that bag, that's a guarantee
That's a guarantee
Ricky Bobby for that bag, that's a guarantee

I'm still working on them commas
While the system tryna curve me
Ain't no mercy from your honor (Nah)
That's the problem, when you coming from the bottom
Couldn't even get Bin Laden 'til we voted for Obama (Facts)
I ain't a minor, "Teen Spirit" ain't Nirvana
Call me pro meth, It's clear this kinda syrup ain't Jemima's
Baby mama drama, tryna act like she Madonna
Like a virgin, but I'm certain that this person a piranha
Man eater, Jeffrey Dahmer
If a stray hit a stan and kill a fan that's Kitana
A rapper getting roasted in a room, that's a sauna
Straps in the room, It's Shaolin vs. the Lama
Why should I threat when I can promise
With that money saved for college
You can go and pay me homage (Yeah)
If you do the knowledge, you would know this I was solid
By the time you check your pockets
I already got ya wallet

[Chorus:]
You can try, but you'll never understand me
I plan to give it to you raw, get a plan B
Y'all be racing to the cash, that's a Grand Prix
I go Ricky Bobby for that bag, that's a guarantee