I can keep it coming 50 to 100
I’ve been making mummy proud, ah
Pulled up in the maddest t’ing
You can hear me coming from 100 miles, ah
I’m the realest t’ing
Bitches imitating but this is my sound, yeah
When you step in that UK
Ask the realest niggas what I’m about, yo
Titty big and the batty too
Ride the cocky like I’m 22
I could care less where your hair’s from
‘Cause your lace fronts kinda showing boo
Blood clot, dem a send for all real dun-da-da
Pull up in a Maserati with a sawn-off shotty
I got bodies, she got bodies
My t’ing good, my t’ing mad
Fucking with me, have you gone mad?
I speak my mind, say how I feel
Sometimes I feel I’m too real
Bitches cooking but that taste off
That sauce fake, that’s bellyache
If I’m coming, that mask off
That’s 1-8-7, I’m in your face
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