Uh-Oh

Lyrics

(Verse 1: Manga Saint Hilare) See I tell a man behave Man ah rose up for the North-West G-H E-double T-O so manaman B-A N-G the 3 8's Now man ah anywhere touch down anywhere Flights over S E A S Dem man dere want the PA Yep, bank transfer send on the B A E A S Man keep shelling like he's running outta lead Way I keep swinging and I keep fucking up the feds Hype up, told 'em everybody dead Dump out, everybody and anybody next Flight of one back-pack and I get a bag on arrival That's for me, one alone, I all So I can't hear enemies or rivals (Verse 2: Rival) I hear that But don't you dare try chat bars at a level you ain't near at I don't wanna hear gas from none of these blood-clart MCs Tell these man I'm a master Darker, 16's harder From day one I been a blood-clart barrer Thought I was gone 'till I dump on tracks Now even Notre Dame's got a hunch on back Got what they lack: lyrics Writing the sickest, illest Tell these man I ain't really liking the scene When I filter MCs all I see is image Tell these dumb lickle dimwits I do not business Cross lines and get your wig split Season of headshot sure ain't finished Ask yourself do you wanna play with it? (Verse 3: Ghetts) Back to back I'm back to that With a hat back and a mac in lap This is headtop Which one of these MCs should I headtop? Forehead, red dot Soldier, twenty-one gun salute At least you got a bad-boy send off Analyse the game and see where they went wrong So I got it covered And they hang where they send from Bars, where'd you get them from? Flows, where'd you get them from? Where the fuck's the respect gone? I'll slap man I ain't sleep when I'm slept on I'm on a level that they ain't never stepped on This is Ghetto not Ghetts don Speak up where's your chest gone A lot of war made the heart in my chest strong I'm on my Jack Jones And I feel like I'm 10-strong School more MCs than send bombs And you ain't never gonna hear the end of Man comin' around and letting off on them lot Man was like "wargwarn fam" And I was like "what? Where the fuck are we friends from?" (Verse 4: Eyes) Oi, you don't wanna bring drama 'Cuh pull out the sword like King Arthur You'll have a limp after, won't walk properly Have me and my niggas in your property I don't trust man, I got a thinking problem If I suspect it's you we can swing like boxing Fuck bringing gloves in My dusters are spiked like drinks with drugs in You're a duckling, I'm a white swan I come with a big sword that's quite long Sliced arms put it on your toes Nylon, all cut and can't say nothing Tied tongue My mate will chop 'em the blade got stuck in You ain't on nothing Victim's crying his face is gushing The bitch is crying her makeup's smudging