(Gotcha)

[Verse 1]
It’s like any time we would rise up swords, surely one of their friends got bored
He was snitching to [?] that’s how he talks cause his head back sore
I’m the king of their land no myth, I’ve been running man out of multiple spots
They all freeze when they see my face cause their gang swings, but it’s not pebbles and dots
(And then) and then, his face got buss and his mrs cried and I asked her why
So here’s some good information: dump that bitch cause she just won’t ride
No, I ain’t a violent guy, but I love how we put it in them;
I got all their olders begging for peace and some friends on the ends
Somebody’s telling a fib, let me tell some facts:
We done numerous bait-face bootings, not sure if we’ll make it back
But, that’s how it gets round us - we’re coming from more than broken homes
And, bro too tapped he said he can hear Satan in his dome
More time I’m the one that did it
Who’s the yute?
Bro I don’t know so ching it
On the m-way like fucking bill it
I don’t like them they make me livid
And I wanted to get him again, sort of like the last time I got him before
But bro said it’s more than an angle, so this time leave him dead on the floor
Man them [?] or riding birds for this fucking beef with these fucking neeks
And now they want to cause some problems like I ain’t done it just bro and me
Just bro and me
They should call us Barry and Paul
Cause we’re brothers until we die, and we’re chuckling when we step with this tool

[Verse 2]
Ok, ok, you got some scores but that don’t work:
I really don’t like you man, and you hate me too, so come do dirt
But I’m betting they won’t find me, cause out of your mouth it’s fibs, ok?
And if I see you or him, then sorry but I’m doing what brodie says
Someone got cheffed, someone got robbed, someone got slapped
You think you can scratch on gang, and chill like the gang ain’t scratching back?
(Scratch mixed it)
If we grab him, do him:
Bro wants this pole to go right through him
I feel sick so now it’s ruined, their team’s screwed if we do this [?]
**** got boxed by me when he came too short with his mummy’s [?]
**** will soon be with his family, we’re trying to find him like - where’s the prick?
**** please stop blessing the beef
I ain’t settling nothing with them - I want you (dead) like shit on the street. (Finish him!)
Urgh, X is a nonce, ponce, broke, tramp, bitch
And Gucci’s lost, smoking dots and talking shit
(Yuck) These are the olders you live by
The banter of it comes so rich
I still make man do toes on tens, and I ain’t talking sliders bitch