[Verse 1: T Mula]
Young boy in the bando
I tell him don't panic like French
Look real strikers in the pitch
I've never seen a n***a on the bench
Samurai sword in my jacket
Why would I care if you're hench?
Look young boy rolling around with a sword
And he ain't tryna' play no fence
Young boy in the bando cus n***as wanna grind and shit
Its like the whole gang there ain't on piss
Cos n***as gon' ride their shit
It's like going to the other side covered
Nuttin' but knives and sticks
Feds on me cus I've been on trouble
Suttin' like my wives and kids
They dont know what I've been through
Red dot on his head like a hindu
Scrams, Face just stack for the Wesson
Cah' be the gunplay that we're into
It's like them man chill with the singer
Two dot dots there in the dinger
Yard man's got a dotty in the rave
But he's still tryna' do the La Linga
We've had guns and shanks without awareness
We've had guns and shanks we're so fearless
And why the fuck do you care about my colour?
Just know I got light and dark like my parents
Sick and that when I dip and splash
Feel like tell the fiend tell a break
But the fiend want kit and kat
For the shit it's all kinda mad
[Verse 2: Scrams]
Can't lie man fed up
But it could be worse
So you know I keep my head up
And one day all these opps' gon' dead up
Just cop me a uh
And really tryna' get my bread up
Really tryna' have both my legs up
And I know I can't lose
Word to my n***a like Kay
Them fuckboys there just rude
Really on piss you know my guys them loose
So it's us or them, Ima' let you choose
Think smart, like don't be fools
Argh! Me and bro this step
With two more goons in the car
But these opps really don't war
Er? Them take it way too far
And this ting in my hand can send a boy straight to the Lord
Yeah I jook it bro
That's late night vamping
And every block I beef
Yeah I been there camping
Causing a scene
Them man love acting
Peng tings throwing up "8"s
And they're screaming out "Gang Ting"
[Verse 3: T Mula]
I tell an opp get wid it
Like Samurai Jack go mains
Samurai Jack go dip him
I ain't talking about bruck down teeth
When I give a boy loose fillings
You can't feel me deny my block
I'd rather die hard like Willis
Like I'd rather die hard like Willis
From the pack come purey
From man talking hard about punches
Something like Tyson fury
I know my man they're just stressed
Cause I'm banging his shorty
Gonna break that pack into stones
And the rest of the pack come salty
And the rest of the pack come salty
It ain't done by them
It's like the mandem scream hella kwengins
None of them's done by them
About 86 don't crash corn
All I got to say is free...(Skeng)
I might pull up in the ride like you
Make sure I hit up your friend
Like make sure I hit up your friend
And fuck who hates me
I don't work in retail darg'
And I won't be serving corn from Sainsbury's
And a bad b screaming out gang
I tell her come fuck with the 80s
And a bad b screaming out gang
I tell her come fuck with the 80s
Like I tell her come fuck with the 80s
[Verse 4: Scrams]
Are you taking the piss?
If I'm brucking grub
Then I'm making sure it flips
That's ups of making trips
Uh? And you ain't taking none of these risks
Never splashed in Harrods
Still fucking girls that them man lips
Fuckboys are forever hating
Text my young boy tell him "Waterloo Station"
Hairs light and dark in separate packs
No segregation
And I need me a brown one that don't like the raving
Like come on b, I'm 8 gang only
And yes I'll bang for bro', cos' that's my brodie
And all these other guys
You know them man phoney
Double trouble, me & Gunna
That's Zack & Cody
Yeah yeah, yeah I heard it before
And after Gunns' puts your back on the curb
Ima' put your face on the floor
"Mr Make More Money" and I'm still tryna' make more
Doing right and wrong
You know I got [?] raw