Blud I can’t sing I’ve gotta rap my way out of here Running through cling, I’ve gotta trap my way out of here
Blud I can’t sing I’ve gotta rap my way out of here Running through cling, I’ve gotta trap my way out of here Gucci backpack, blud I’ll bring the MAC out of there Brudda’s getting clap-clap cah they’re living out of fear Forward, no safety I hope the Lord takes me I’m feeling like to start a motherfucking war lately Mama don’t you worry bout your premature baby I’m feeling like to start a motherfucking war lately Blue lights, feds coming in the distance Brudda’s know Dirty I done come up inna Brixton You better know how to rap or box or kick ball If not blud you’d better get them bricks in Product of the system Catch me with my hoodie low, looking for a victim I said catch me with my hoodie low Riding in your Audi slow, bout to let my shit ring
Blud I can’t sing I’ve gotta rap my way out of here Running through cling, I’ve gotta trap my way out of here Blud I can’t sing I’ve gotta rap my way out of here Running through cling, I’ve gotta trap my way out of here
I come up in Bricky with the yardies You can catch Big Dirty blowing on the Marley Remember getting bagged when I was sixteen Sitting on two bags Bail was like £30k, I told the judge remand me Wallahi Bad mood Blowing on a fat doob When you’re falling ain’t nobody gonna catch you Man try rob my watch Get stabbed by the same hand that it’s attached to Come up in the jungle like Mowgli You can catch Dirty unlicensed in the Audi Blowing on the loudie Got the windows up so the wizzer look cloudy Driving out the county Heading up to country, I got no CV Listening to a couple of my old CD’s I know my brudda Young Littlez from like ’03 g He put you in your place, that’s his OCD
Blud I can’t sing I’ve gotta rap my way out of here Running through cling, I’ve gotta trap my way out of here Blud I can’t sing I’ve gotta rap my way out of here Running through cling, I’ve gotta trap my way out of here