Maniacs

Lyrics

[Intro: Blade Brown, DJ Big Ryde] Yeah, yeah Yeah, yeah Okay Yeah Aight hold tight Blade, let's do this [Verse 1: Blade Brown, DJ Big Ryde] The state of the game is a tragedy Everybody's licking shots, everybody's bagging B They say I wrap raw casually Real talk I really had a nigga up in casualty And nah I ain't talking 'bout the series Feel free to ask me, I'm addressing all your queries And darg I only roll with a couple bruddas Most man are clowns they remind me of the Chuckle Brothers And yeah my family's tight Just B, Dre and C, I could name a couple others (But what?) But I ain't baiting up names It's bad enough I'm on the road baiting up 'caine After a hard day's work darg I'm ringing up Keisha, I'm rating that brain But nah back to the subject Most of the niggas on this rap ting are suspect You never see them on the strip late Swear down fam I can't listen to these mixtapes (Swear down) They say they're all on the grind I get that peng yeah I call it the shine, why? (Tell 'em why fam) Because it glistens in the light This is real talk, don't listen to the hype Every time I spit it's like I'm christening the mic (This is Ard Bodied) These niggas must be smoked when they're kissing on the pipe (Ayo Giggs, tell 'em how it went down) [Verse 2: Giggs] Move so scatty in life (Yeah) Stuck in the traphouse packaging white (Packaging white) Look to the left of me, the matic's in sight (Matic's in sight) Clip's loaded up, proper smack it in right (Hmm) My strategy's nice (Yeah) Look for a hottie on a Saturday night (Yeah) I was looking ravaged that night Boogs kinda shocking with the Adidas stripe (Ooh) Got rounds in the strap cocked (Cocked) I come round have your town under mad lock And I ain't come round for a slap job (Job) I come round, I'll be sounding the mac off Take all your hats off (Off) Got the whole rap game in a padlock (Yeah) And I ain't playing with you fags 'cause (What?) It could end bloodstains on your laptop (Yeah) Cocaine I done bagged lots (Lots) Gotta link a duss head round Bagshot There's a yellow sign up on the corner Asking anyone if they saw who stabbed Bob (Hmm) Don't say that I'm wack 'cause You've got Hollowman playing in your rag top (Yeah) Plus I got your princess in my flat dog Balls in her mouth, call it a sack job [Verse 3: Dubz] More hype, why? 'Cause I fucked your baby momma Marmite, why? Love me or hate me brudda Underrate me I'ma Still make my butter Snowflakes in summer I'm an A-Class shover, not the Mercedes Couple eights I'll plug up in your girlfriend's buttocks Or her purse maybe Pull up in a car at the curb she'll leave I might bring a couple dargs to your territory Fuck the metaphors B Cheap ass nigga, you'll get peppered for free As for stepping on feet? Steel-toe caps So when I step on the street I pay no tax Feds mentioning me? You don't know man 'Cause the nitties they need me like coke cans Probation don't see me, don't show fam (Show fam) 'Cause I'm peddling diesel, that dope man Look, now it's time that I think I get my dick polished Hit the club unshaven, Rick Ross ish Plus the coke's unshaven, big boss ish And the colt just came in, Giggs's promise So you better just hide your goods 'Cause I'm better with this 9 iron than Tiger Woods Let me show you the real meaning of time flying inside the shoobz Get your watch popped and your shine took by minor crooks [Outro: DJ Big Ryde] Aight Don't forget Hollowman Meetz Blade That's on the road now yeah So make sure you cop that Yeah Aight, so hear what I'm saying It's Big Ryde I'm back on my shit