I put hands on a hand ting
And let that spray
I Green light that work
For the young G's
Money in bands no minimum wage
Yeah it's bless all the gang get paid
See opps Bali up no face
You see fed disappear no trace
I got cooks that don't cook food
But do cook food
That can sell past dates
How far will go when you feel like
You've had no more
And you lost your faith
I put trust in them still I don't confide
No emotion you see on my face
And I still got envious eyes
That need glasses when
They try throw shade
Cause I'll spit in your contact lens
And I might still get
Your prescription paid
Somebody tell postman pat
The service now is a postal trap
Brudda wanna talk bout
The money they made
But don't wanna talk
Bout words they capped
All of the good girls want badman
But they quick to forget
When there man's in the can
For her berkin bag you
Slanging these packs
For the man on estate
She was throwing it back
Heard you died for nyash
That's Can never be me I swear
I'd rather grad her weave a yagga
When I pull off a bitches hair
Don't believe this life is fair
It's a roll of a dice like truth or dare
Spend you whole life
Climbing mountain
While bruddas gone like
They never took stairs
This games that we plays
Like musical chairs
Cause it's out with the old
And in with the new
And the bars that we get are recycled
Showing my talent but nobody cares
And maybe my time will come
When I pack up my bags
And I closes my affairs
Or maybe my time will come altogether
When God answers all my late prayers
Dunno it's Slikz ima leave that derrr