48 Bars

Listen I ain't ever ran no scams Akhi I was shotting from a yout And watched my plans expand Couple years on the hard grind Slanging chang Ask all of my shottas, I turn grams to grands I get them boxes of piff That man brang from Dam And if you little kids getting Out your pram with bang So where your shooters at? Prick I make my shooters clap Banging out O's of the snow Plus we move the wraps We're getting dough on the low We've got the food for cats Forty dots left in the bag That I'm due to whack Mum pissed I grew to trap As far as my dad goes I Never really knew the prat Bringing back the truth and that Tearing up the booth with facts Now I'm in this music game Watch what my motherfucking team are Gonna do to rap pussy I am twenty now You're rolling with plenty clowns Shot in different boroughs while you Ain't covered any ground Roll through any town F*ck where your goons at As far as the scene goes Most you rappers' tunes whack And I was getting indro way Before I slinged snow Still I let the ting go This is just the intro In the whip, getting crazy head from a bimbo Kicking back Blowing grade smoke out the window I just blaze the sess Hoping to escape my stress You never know today could be the last Fucking day you ever take a breath I don't even need the mash I'll poke him with this blade to death Long road I'm running down Still I ain't made it yet Sitting in the station pissed Thinking how I make a mess My little brudda saved my life when Jakes tried to raid my nest You're fucking with some major vets Who raise the TEC's When it's on it's nothing long Cause my brothers know they Owe me major debts No need for major threats I just set him up with this major sket Fake address, I don't need to state the rest Pussy this is Pak's flow We're living in a crack zone My little youngers cat crow I'm stunting in my black Stone Rolling on my Jack Jones When I was out here broke Tryna pick my line up You was tryna jack phones Buzzing when I mack hoes Gotta hit the roads again Distribute the pen It's so rarely that my cats smoke You're just another rap clone Fronting like you're hard in your bars But you've never put something In a pack though Fam I slipped once but I bounced back Count stacks Sort you out eight niff of ounce akh Man are hungry in South, fam I'm on a low And I'm paro cause there's bare undies about All I see is nuff feds, nuff blocked Nuff dead still I'm on the block getting Rid of nuff dots, mashing up Z's Serving up them dust heads Bringing in nuff bread Brudda I turn grams to grands And that's enough said