I’m a Brixton boy brudda And I come up with my Brixton boy bruddas Man’s boys bruddas I got seven in the weapon if your boy run up Road’s cold, nuttin’ we ain’t new to I got a little juice in me but don’t make me juice you Big teet’ or little teet’, I do it with the.22 I got God on my side, I don’t need juju We don’t fuck with voodoo I got a shotty by my side but I like a deuce-deuce He was all gassed, dissing man on YouTube Now the doc’s gloving up ’cause he gotta tube you They will have to tube you and you ain’t even on that It’s long akh, I bought my Rambo to cut the combat I’m from that, where bruddas dead, you gotta pour a Cognac And one thing I never cared about was where you’re from akh I know Stizz way before a throwback, know that There’s more teeth, we’re emptying the whole strap So mad, bruddas die you gotta pour the ‘ognac And one thing I never cared about was who you know akh
I’m a Brixton boy brudda And I come up with my Brixton boy bruddas Ain’t a cannibal ting but I’ll cook a man You can tell it’s real rap when you look at man
Used to bang before the paper but that’s old habits I learnt you can’t go-go without no gadgets I knew them man there before, they ain’t no savage I’m tryna fly out with a bird that’s got no baggage Used to bang before the paper but that’s old habits I’ll split his whole cabbage like an old marriage I know them man before, they had no status All this Latin gyal are thinking that I know Spanish You want this chain on my neck? You’re gonna have to shoot me You want this cab fare, owe me, gonna have to do me Cars roomy, spent cheese, I had to stack halloumi Man’s looney, no cheese with this macaroni You want this watch on my wrist? You’re gonna have to shoot me You want this chain on his neck? You’re gonna have to shoot us Judas, get shot with the macaroni She’s fruity plus she got a backaroni Ain’t a cannibal ting but I’ll cook a man You can tell it’s real rap when you look at man That’s why the bully van tryna bully man Obbo got a man scared like the boogeyman
I’m a Brixton boy brudda And I come up with my Brixton boy bruddas Ain’t a cannibal ting but I’ll cook a man You can tell it’s real rap when you look at man
I see the trap looking mad seducive Got a brucky in the ends, it look mad exclusive Bruddas want war, I got a mad solution Put a burner in the A, it’s from Massachusetts New ting, I let it scan today Gang got your homie and you feel some kind of way What I done for the streets, I ain’t the type to say Only time I’m getting on my knees is when it’s time to pray I was sleeping on my life, now I’m wide awake I was in the trap, I saw racks in the microwave I told Stizz we ain’t got time to waste