Open Arms - Grip, Grandmaster Vic

What up, cuzzo?

It’s been a minute since we touched base

I hope this verse doesn’t find you in a rough place, give me some updates

The family ain’t been the same since granny passed

So busy tryna handle tasks, life passed, quick as a camera flash

Like I ain’t seen you in a year and some change and I’d be lying if I said I

wasn’t hearing some things

I often track back to better days, backpacks and letter grades

And Uncle Timmy’s hatchback was matte black and heather gray

You had the fade, the part and the rat tail

Way before I rapped well, enough to speak on the plight of the blackmail

Who would’ve thought that we would play a part in these packed jails?

From crack sells, when we was just paintin' pictures with pastels

Action figures and Gargoyle episodes, laying right there on grandmama floor,

Lord bless her soul

Manifested goals, now the necklace gold

But I’d trade it all in a second, bro, for you to come back home

Know you’re never on your own, no one wants to be alone

Open arms when you come home again

Lost in streets, we used to roam

It hit a little different when you get grown

Everybody waiting on you to get home again

We walked a slow place but time’s skatin' on rollerblades

These are the thoughts that travel through my mind on my lowest days

Where I’m from, niggas toting K’s and throwaways

Sell dope or rock, the only jobs that overpay

Unless you’re an athlete or flow over trap beats

Can’t get a real job 'cause niggas got rap sheets

Slept in my backseat, I’d probably be better off if I had went and got a

college degree

Wish the knowledge was free but see, the problem with me, I get a couple of

dollars and go on a lottery spree

Obviously, we ain’t have no one to show us the ropes

But rappers sold us the game, so we sold us some dope

Don’t want to get off our ass, we’d rather hold a remote

And watch them flex all they cash while we stay totally broke

And now, now, don’t get me wrong, really to each their own

But I just miss the days when music used to hit home

Know you’re never on your own, no one wants to be alone

Open arms when you come home again

Lost in streets, we used to roam

It hit a little different when you get grown

Everybody waiting on you to get home again

Aye, y’all niggas wanna see where my uncle keep his gun?

Your uncle don’t have no gun

Yo, what is that?

Yo, is that a.38?

That bitch clean

I bet it ain’t loaded though