[Intro]
Urban Kulture Sound
Gotcha Bxtch

[Verse 1: JTrizzy]
Peddle bike ting, let's glide on the Hill (Let's glide)
And JBoy ran, got chinged
***** got fished and he hides at Fields (At Fields)
And most of the man there snitch
Ran through 'em, got pinched when we done them drills
We step with ramz on hip
When the dot-dot ting and clips get filled (Bow)
We've lurked on flats like towers, seen no-one like Fatal Fields (Fields)
And a girl love me like Powers, Netflix [?], I ain't got chill (4'K)
Done been 'round Ring for hours, see no soul, go Ravenhill (Where they at?)
Them man ain't out in the field, they hide in the back like Risky Reels
And we lurk 'round there for the thrill (For the thrill)
Them man ain't got no kills, but they're screaming K's, oh shit, that's rubbed (Aha)
JSav been talking loads, but he ain't done shit when I bricked his mum (What he done?)
Oh shit, lemme not forget, what has he done when we chinged his aunt?
KB, that's twice already, thought he was safe when he ran 'round cars (Ain't safe)
**** loves stating bars, that ain't gonna help with his punctured lung
Opp thots keep talking much, tell her choke the rass and show their tongue
Had a paigon's girl screaming L2'K or 4's and her back got dugged (Aha)
Nuff' times we've lurked on strips, oh shit, they quick, got healthy lungs
[Verse 2: Kfrmda3s]
Black men just hop out the whizz
With the stainless kitch, I don't know who did it (Who did that?)
Finish, this rambzi's no flickage, dig dat
Blade in your back, all spillage (Ching, ching)
How you beef when you ain't seen figures?
Bitch ass n***as, wannabe drillers (Dickhead)
Bro-bro can't get to the dots
He's stepping to your block with the stainless dippers (Bow, bow)
Sinners, not gonna lie we're vicious
Face on the top for the cops and singers
They wanna see cash, no pictures (Ay)
Drop to the Farm, it's calm, drop knickers
They talk about drills they ain't done (No way)
N***as just run, don't slip where you're hiding
These fibbers just rap, no riding
Back that blade in the case, see who's fighting (Ay, back that)
Swing that shanks on the mains like Viking
Two leathers on when he tap that trig'
Quick, this n***a here can't sprint
Man's chinging him down 'til he grows some wings
Or billing up zoots on the paigon strip (Ay, bill that)
Two man already turned pack and they never come back
Coming like some ticks (They're gone)
Pricks, backing out shanks from hips
And they're dropping their ramz when they this stick
Like, pedal bike trips we're lurkin'
And purgin' tryna catch this nig'
Lord, I pray that an OG slips
That would've been a quick 3-0 hat-trick
Like, how many times has Trig been clipped?
That's bare 'round the OB strip
Flame them garms, not tryna get nicked
Pedal bike mode, man risk that solo
Or bruck grub, that's bolo (Bruck that)
Me and T gonna pitch that postcode
Send out a text, what's next? That's promo (Ay send that)
OT living, man, risk that, did that
How many times have we flipped packs? (How many?)
Man's back in the T, no breaks 'cah I missed that
Tell a young G "Go hit that" (Go fly that)