Struggling – Looney (feat. Mark Ellison)

[Mark Ellison:]
Listen, uh
Don’t talk like you ride with the heat
Big 45, put your mind on your feet
Studio grind when we light up the cheese
And if you’ve got a problem, write for me G
But darg don’t make me have to ride on your team
I holla at Loons like ‘Rise up the P’s’
Spray a round, lay ’em down
Mumma gon’ have to say prayers now
I don’t know why these yout’s used to follow me
Cah their girlfriends wan’ holla me
She wan’ honour me
On her knees, gave her the wood, no mahogany
So if I choose to ride with the weapon
You’ll be looking mad like Ryu in Tekken
Don’t get it? Tekken vs. Street Fighter
Man I bun herbs, real leaf lighter
I ain’t banging on these same roads
But if I’m banging then I’m banging for my main bros
My team on the grind tryna get dough
Lava on the riddim, I’m a walking volcano

My soul’s black, my heart’s grey
Both sides of my brain tryna part ways
So tell me what’d you know about hard pain?
You’re on FaceBook bitching about a hard day
My soul’s black, my heart’s grey
Both sides of my brain tryna part ways
So tell me what’d you know about hard pain?
You’re on FaceBook bitching about a hard day

[Looney:]
I never listen when the haters are talking
I keep my mouth shut, eyes up, keep walking
Cah I know where I’m going gonna make it
Haters, you better turn, can’t face it
Cah they’re weak and their flow sounds basic
Looney wanna turn rapping to a payslip
And if a nigga wants beef, I embrace it
Sutting like a Heskey penalty, I’ll space it
Snakes wanna see me fall on my backside
I’ve got the Caribbean courage from my black side
I just stack notes, act broke, trap life
Fast pace, haters can’t see me, I’m MAC5
You’re not me cuz, na you’re not that guy
You hit a zoot, one bun then you act high
You rock Lonsdale loafers and act fly
Me, I rap tight, LochWest is the catchline
I know a lot of man are snakes in the grass
Telling me I’ll make it, telling me I’ll pass
Watching what I’m doing then reporting to the babylon
But I does this for myself, gotta carry on
I know a lot of man are snakes in the grass
Telling me I’ll make it, telling me I’ll pass
Watching what I’m doing then reporting to the babylon
But I does this for myself, gotta carry on
A lot of man’ll move funny for the paper
Fuck a hater, bin bag, see you later
I don’t need no more stress, I’m a thin man
Aged eighteen living life like a big man
Talk to me ’bout paper, I’m listening
And I never cop jewels if they ain’t glistening
Take things off my mind fam
My boy passed away couple years and I’m missing him
I live life, real facts, no fabrication
I keep stacking up the notes for a vacation
But in the meanwhile I’ma phone Charlie like ‘Jump on the PlayStation’