[Intro]
This is a Melo beat
Traphouse Mob
MoneyEvery on the track

[Verse 1: Tempz]
I got saucered rips in my jeans
But I never been splashed by your team
Ah now I got sauce on my jeans 'cah I just splashed up this neek
Hold four, get one for free
I'm Sav, they know it's me
I'm on the backroad doing up 30
Gunner blowin' smoke so the wind's all steam
I'm on the 9, B[?] Andy
Cuh he wants a 3 on 3
We can never lack when we're battin' them
So if you buck into gang, best skeet
Cuh we back our chefs and swing them
Thats why **** said "Stop, please"
My opps are fuckin' jokeman
Ramzy touchеd, more than three
Anyting green get bun, is a raasclaat motto
Lampz or DipDat, He got slappеd with the hollow
So how you gonna flex in vids?
Don't try and follow
Two bags and the waps
Skengs in abundance, we don't borrow
[Verse 2: Joobz]
Make sure that the Lord's inside
If I come 'round crashin' a stolen ride
Make sure you don't lose your stride
Cuz this time's gonna be a murder try
If you lack, you might bleed and die
Tryna do it like M, get sent to the sky
Pray God bro beat that case
Cuh it woulda been a bird for active guys
Run up in homes, don't ask man why
Slap it at domes, and I close one eye
Tried give more but my blade was shy
Then he got held by a passer-by
Tryna do it like Pumpz, we'll aim that high
This beef's onsight, one more poke and he woulda seen light
Rambo tucked in the day and night
Bro looked [?] to win that fight
Whoever I bucked, they ran with fright
Bang like dynamite, ask you friends "What's Sin Squad Like?"
Ding dong wizz, ten toes, push bikes
Trap fit season, tracksuit - Nike
Beef can't reason, aim and strike
Lane thats treason, step with numbers
Never be even, don't do social
Man can't reason, doin' it old school
Shotgun stays in, check out the tohu
Guys who's bleeding
[Verse 3: Shemz]
I've missed like half this year, its ments
I came back home and my stat look dead
Gyall wan' cuff, but I want bread
And I wan' drill on the paigons dem
Yeah, sauce will spill but you ain't got skengs
Doesn't make sense, think again
Hold-up, don't leave your friends
Lack on your block, get shot or cheffed
Man do cars or moped glides
Jump off bikes with long ass knifes
Jail, man did it, A kettle
Whipped it, came back home put food on tables
Half these yutes I beef ain't wid it
How she wan' beat but she moving timid?
Hold-up, take two, and I bill it
If I see an opp, then I swerve and skid it
Jump out gang on the 2
They run, man down if I catch this punk
Blade in lungs, or tap that once
Bare got smoked, made your whole block run

[Verse 4: Trills]
Ran man down in my Air Force 1's
I ran man down in my Air Max too
Ask Tion Wayne, you know man bad and rude
Slide through the 9, then you know man slide through the 2's
We leave no clues, soon gonna see them on news
Six man squashed in the four door, ready to spill some juice
Various things in the ride, just hope that we don't see the boys in blue
He try run like Ricky, and got shot like Ricky
Yeah this beef is sticky, Opp block tour got my rambo drippy
Opp block tour got my rambo drippy, my younger splashed him silly
Get round in the whizzy, like "Fuck Kizzy"
With the dot dot I'm way too iffy
Up close ting, tryna leave him six feet
Them boys try diss me, I dun violated them, sum pitneys
They do it for the net, we do it for the press
ITV fuck a gazette
Do it four doors, do it on peds
Shoutout Joobz, he dips 'till it bends