Don't fuck around
Make us come around
That .44 gonna gun him down
SB, my familia
Mafia, my gango
Torturana and Lambos
Bro, we tour UK in a band, though

Gango, active
Two-man up, me and Basco
Savage, I'll stab man's head
Till their brains turn cabbage
I've been on all of my paigon blocks
I made man dart from the sound of the matic
I ain't no joker, are you fucking mad?
Who said that? (WHO?)
I stabbed man's back
Till I felt his bones inside
And ripped that
This verbal attack
Got Lucii big mad

(Fuck Bluehills, fuck North, fuck Block 6, fuck Catford, fuck LDG, fuck Glendon, fuck all the opps; I hope all of your dead friends rest in piss, come test me)

They say they're on the block
But they're not
Rot, rot, rot with the dots
I heard my mans doing up drill
Stop, stop, stop, stock your Glock
If my boy got killed, I'd ride;
I would not go make no songs
This drill music's washed
All these rappers lie in songs
Don't swing my blade
I itch it in!
I'm a psychopath
And my Rambo's twin
I just wanna see them puncture skin
I'll stab, stab, and turn him jinn
I don't know why they made a whole song about man
Are you fucking gay?
Get off my dick
No-one cares where the hills have been
Kill yourself, you useless fucking kids
None of you got bread
You look like bums
You're stuck in the ends;
It makes me sick
How have you got the chest
To diss Lucii
Are you sick in your head?
I tour your ends
And I don't see you
In fact, not even your neeky friends
So, how can you say that you're on your block?
You must be hiding and capping!

(You know I'm gonna kill you one by one
When you slip, and I catch you lacking;
AK-47, the bullets will tear you up if I slap it
Rurrr, rurrr, sound of the matic
Slip, slip, slip, slip, and die, you prick)

(I ain't gonna say no more...
Check the news, and see what the mandems on!
Fuck the opps)