Small Town

Nukky Grissom – Small Town

(Verse 1)
My first line always came to me the hardest/
Til’ a voice said, “start where your heart is”/
I start jottin’, pretty soon I’m fillin’ up the margins/
And next thing that ya know I got the song done/
And each one run about 10 pages/
8 of em’ are scribbled out cuz all of my changes/
Never satisfied, a perfectionist/
Which is why I spend so much time correctin’ shit/
And dissectin’ it/
I’m the type to rarely talk about own shit ‘til someone else mention it/
I dunno man, there’s just sumpin’ about the/
Face that they make ya when you tell ‘em you a rapper/
Yeah, like they got all these pre-conceived notions/
And thought that you would be a certain way, be braggadocios/Yeah
Like I’m gonna pull a brick out my back pocket/
Roll a spliff and go and light up in the back office/
Like I’m gonna a pull a heater out/
Load the clip right there while I’m swearin’ an obscene amount/
I’m like damn kid, I’m just like you/
I just use a pen and paper to express my views/And share my truths
Grade 8 was my first time/
I remember it so vivid when I wrote my first rhyme/
I was chillin’ out with my friend Jason/
His Dad was a drummer, had em’ set-up in the basement/
I was like, man this shit is so awesome/
I’m thinkin’ we can start up a band, and can start tourin’/
Way premature and we were immature/
But that young love grew into sumpin’ even more/
And here I am years later/
Still gonna give it a shot with no jager/
Still gonna do this/
And yeah they still lookin’ at me crooked like, “Really man, you do rap music?”/
Well first off I don’t “DO” rap music/
I make the shit, I write the shit, the pen just moves so fluid/
It’s so easy for me, so easy buddy, I know you weren’t tryin’ to be rude/
But damn, give me credit dude/
Cuz it’s a pain in the neck, Defending the shit,/
While dudes rock a chain on the neck, gaudy pendants and shit/
And I get lumped in the genre/
So then I feel the need to explain the wider culture/
Then I feel the need to explain just so they listen/
And try to fix the image of rap that they envision/I tell em’
For every Waka Flocka, there’s a J. Cole spittin’/
For e’y Soulja Boy there’s a Nukky Grissom/Listen/
I put my whole life on the page/
I swear the shit is like wine, gettin’ better with age/And yeah
This my truth, and this my soul/
Don’t like it? Kiss my boots and kiss my soles/
It’s gettin’ old, same jokes over and over/
So straighten up your hat and shake my hand like a grown-up/

Damn, you know that’s gotta be one of my pet peeves man, like, you know, like when I see someone out at the bar or something and it’s someone who would, you know, normally just shake my hand but, but you know they see me wearin’ my hat all sideways so, you know, they quickly adjust theirs then walk up all like “yo yo yo man, whassaap?” and I’m just kinda sittin’ there like, what are you doin’ man? But whatever, I guess that’s just Small Town Shit…