Whistle Style

Lyrics

[Verse 1: Giggs] The banana that the goons took Ain't nothing like them ones in Baloo's book No, you can't use my car, use your two foot Late night in that trap with the food cook Man's so poetic Two phone calls then man goes to get it Steak well-done, think man won't fillet it Shave off Ps, think man won't Gilette it Drink up, now that bitch Amaretted This that Prezi Obama edit G's so heavy, he's harder-headed He's so sick that he's after medics I'm bringing my Glock round to party That pussy get chopped down, karate And knock it right back to the future That pussy get Doc Brown and Marty'd Yeah, women'll flock round Ferrarris But women are pop down fi caan mi I'm digging that soft brown punani The women ah swarm me, they want me I remember when man had two phones One was personal, one's to move stones Just left Tina's, back to Tyrone's Dropped off Peter's, had to fly home Just got back and bagged a wide load and Trap got hot, I have to lie low and Man got rapped, the MAC, he got stolen Youts got gassed, man had to console 'em They're thinking they lock down the jungle I'm ready to rock, roll and rumble MAC sound is Snow White The Glock sound's Rapunzel I heard that yout's got the high grade I'm looking to lock down a bundle I'm looking at ice queen to run to Then give her a baby like Rumpel [Verse 2: Kyze] Guess who's back on the corner? Two not guiltys, fuck the informer Yo Giggs, them Ds are out of order Locking up an innocent man, fam, that's torture Anyway, man's back and that's a good look Phoning old gyal like she's back in man's good books Man's a gyalist, man got gyal hood hooked She heard about the beat, she don't care about man's good looks That line deserved a couple bloop bloops Expect nothing less from this nicely rhymed hood crook Seasoned, I can sell you that cookbook But man's hungry so you might get that buj took Man's home and the vibes are all wavy Got couple hot gyal on my Insta gone crazy So if you see me in your ends in the PM It's probably cause she sent me the poom poom through the DM Catch me with Big Zeeks in the BM Rolling past the haters like we can't see them That's a lie, why? I can't pretend They're the inspiration like we can't be them Oh wow, I'm feeling myself If you know you're a prick, go and beat up yourself If I was you, I would beat off a shelf Let the whole world know that I'm bad breed as well Gunman but your gun got no shells Weed man but your ganja don't smell You man are stuck with that grub that won't sell Man, step out of the dance, you man got no girls Summertime punani's gone mad Do it for my young G cuh my dargy's on tag Party, have a word with them slags Going home with two birds for the bird that man had