| whenInstead of doin somethin good with my life | |
| I was out feelin untouchable, tryna rock grown men | |
| I dunno how hes done it but my lawyer is a gee for keepin me outta pen | |
| If it wernt for him and my paps, | |
| I'd be lookin at a 10 | |
| We all used to shot food but it was more about who was the gulliest in the ends | |
| Shout out to | |
| Tinchy, I was smaller than my guns | |
| One thing we wouldnt do and that was shot a mans mum | |
| But I was jammed up at the crack house, all night long | |
| See man OD'in of the needle and the needle and the bong | |
| When mornin used to come | |
| I'd smell mingin | |
| The weather was always ****ed my line never stopped dingin' | |
| Cubba, white, brown pills, you can name me anything | |
| There was nothin we wernt slingin | |
| Look at me now | |
| I'm singin | |
| At my little sons grinnin | |
| Mums gotta skits out, when she sees her new yard n kitchen | |
| The scene needs coachin | |
| Put your'e album out, same day as us and we'll see who's roastin! | |
| Suck yourself! | |
| You don't kill! | |
| I can tell the way you talk about these ****in straps that you ain't never cocked no still | |
| Real recognise real! | |
| You know the deal | |
| If ya on this ting and you ain't talkin shit | |
| I'ma see ya when you make a mill | |
| When you make a mill | |
| When ya make a mill, | |
| I'ma see ya | |
| Respected by | |
| G's cos I never tried to be one | |
| But I've been around | |
| Dappy and money makers | |
| It's football and music, or let the streets take us (no lie) | |
| Uh, I never lie in my bars | |
| Artist blow and make up a part | |
| They start liein to the listeners, | |
| I tell em be yaself, the real | |
| G's ain't listenin! | |
| But nowadays everybodys bad, everybodys gotta strap on everybody bangs | |
| And I don't give a shit if ya grindingif ya clothes look shit, your'e a tramp! | |
| I'm sick and tired of these | |
| Youtube gee's, gettin pissed of because ya girl | |
| Youtubes me | |
| I swear down these | |
| Niggers make me sick | |
| Na na nii, throw up a | |
| CPlease, Mr | |
| Munks all good | |
| Ya think my hair weren't cut the way | |
| I'm good in my hood | |
| I pass through like sho they show love | |
| It's an event whenever | |
| I shows up | |
| The money it goes up, day by day | |
| And baby, pricks should never say my name | |
| I came, from a place where it's all or nothin' | |
| So I'ma take all and leave the boys nothin' | |
| Leave the boys scuffin' yeah, fightin over shit | |
| Number 2 album, | |
| Nigger I'm the shit | |
| Ey yo Da's look now were winnin | |
| We use to be in the flats chillin | |
| Look at me now spittin | |
| Teeth still grinnin | |
| Pass through my hood | |
| Big gully | |
| A R chain swingin | |
| Paid so I'm boastin | |
| I can burn bread | |
| On 1 4 corner ways | |
| Suck yourself! | |
| You don't kill! (You don't kill!) | |
| I can tell the way you talk about these ****in straps that you ain't never cocked no still | |
| Real recognise real! | |
| You know the deal (You know the deal) | |
| If ya on this ting and you ain't talkin shit | |
| I'ma see ya when you make a mill | |
| When you make a mill | |
| YoI was never ballin | |
| My trainers all had smiles on their faces they were talkin | |
| Always dressin bummy in some oversized tracksuite | |
| Runnin round the streets where the gully is the black dudes | |
| Robbin Niggers bare faced | |
| I knew it wasnt fair mate | |
| We'd lick a couple lappys | |
| And we'd meet up at the staircase | |
| Uncle B was the realest thing that | |
| I believed in | |
| Didn't think 4 years down the line, | |
| I'd still be grievin' | |
| And I ain't leavin, so ... | |
| Suck yourself! (Suck yourslef!) | |
| You don't kill! (You don't kill!) | |
| I can tell the way you talk about these ****in straps that you ain't never cocked no still | |
| Real recognise real! | |
| You know the deal! (Ungrateful!) | |
| If ya on this ting and you ain't talkin shit | |
| I'ma see ya when you make a mill | |
| When you make a mill | |
| **** it! |