Ain’t Gonna Do

Lyrics

[Verse 1] Why's man acting dank? You're only a G around certain man If I type in the postcode and it bangs You will get left with more than a tan Bun, man know me and the gang Jump on the set, everyting get shelled Average MCs don't get prang Just don't be a target and everyting's swell Man chat shit, then everyting swells Nose, eyes, everyting swells Lip buss, everyting swells Skrr out in the whip like well, well, well I never came here to take man's girl But if she's rating a man then shell I'm not a reload MC, I shell When the shells get reloads, man don't yell [Chorus] Man will get punched up, sent home Mumbling things that he ain't gonna do He's gonna kill Blay? He ain't gonna do Rob my food? He ain't gonna do Run up in my home? He ain't gonna do Man got sent to the shops with the forearm Man better go home, heal up wounds Man can't shell, don't ask 'bout tunes Man will get punched up, sent home Mumbling things that he ain't gonna do He's gonna kill Blay? He ain't gonna do Rob my food? He ain't gonna do Run up in my home? He ain't gonna do Man got sent to the shops with the forearm Man better go home, heal up wounds Man can't shell, don't ask 'bout tunes [Verse 2] I know man that will marry your mum Get a Visa, come to the country and dun your clart Where do I start? Man have been sick from the get-go Everybody knows wah gwan And if I say I'm gonna box man up Don't think faces aren't gonna get harmed I might put five gold chains on your neck And then make my man walk through Farm Nah, them man are smoking buj Draw man out? Man wish they could Man have got fifteen-year friendships That will run up in your yard with shells and juj Run up in your yard with shells and pain These mandem don't know about shame Box man down in front of his wifey His son went home thinking "you're lame" [Chorus] Man will get punched up, sent home Mumbling things that he ain't gonna do He's gonna kill Blay? He ain't gonna do Rob my food? He ain't gonna do Run up in my home? He ain't gonna do Man got sent to the shops with the forearm Man better go home, heal up wounds Man can't shell, don't ask 'bout tunes Man will get punched up, sent home Mumbling things that he ain't gonna do He's gonna kill Blay? He ain't gonna do Rob my food? He ain't gonna do Run up in my home? He ain't gonna do Man got sent to the shops with the forearm Man better go home, heal up wounds Man can't shell, don't ask 'bout tunes [Verse 3] Mandem are losing themselves for the reload Shouting out things that will get them bored Fam, I am not here for the banter We can even take this talk next door When you hear me, just know it's the realest Man don't flex like lyrical whores Dem man there make tunes with suckers Them antics, man can't endorse Nah, man better calm in the skin God gave them before man bun it Ten years deep, man can't run it Dead MCs, man's all done it Lord of the Mics, yeah, man won it All from heat, man's still gunning Sixteen bars had man running Got no youts, man's still sonning [Chorus] Man will get punched up, sent home Mumbling things that he ain't gonna do He's gonna kill Blay? He ain't gonna do Rob my food? He ain't gonna do Run up in my home? He ain't gonna do Man got sent to the shops with the forearm Man better go home, heal up wounds Man can't shell, don't ask 'bout tunes Man will get punched up, sent home Mumbling things that he ain't gonna do He's gonna kill Blay? He ain't gonna do Rob my food? He ain't gonna do Run up in my home? He ain't gonna do Man got sent to the shops with the forearm Man better go home, heal up wounds Man can't shell, don't ask 'bout tunes