Lyrics

[Intro: Gabzy, Joe Grind] It's Gabzy freestyle (Gabzy) [?] Down In The Dirt mixtape (Hmm) It's nuts [Verse 1: Gabzy, Joe Grind] My [?] cooking minds I'm so hot [?], you can probably fry eggs with my book of rhymes (Ooh) I can also be cold, you don't wanna laugh I make the sun, wanna put on a jacket and a scarf A longer last (Yeah), I mean I last longer Guess I'm a longer last You don't want the crime follow So when I'm around, put your backs up My mentality's so far ahead, even your future's tryna catch up (Ah fuck) And my barrels are far from hollow Man I'm a rider, I'm up for not seeing tomorrow So when it's, back in it time, I'm straight in I ain't waiting for the voice at the back of my mind It's contemplating, I'm straight in It's that, no lip flow and just spare fist throwing When you're balling, girls come swarming So right about now, my love life is still boring But 9 out of 10 is my marks See me in my workouts in the t-shirt I walked from Primark But trust me brother, I'ma run tings Cah I keep my focus tight like government funding (Wooh) And 'round here, it's hot like a sauna Can't enjoy the good times Cah I know the bad ones are right 'round the corner But nah-nah, I'm gon' enjoy life They give me happiness, then I'm gonna boy life So go give it to me, man I'm a high roller, do me suttin' talk I don't bop, I just stroll, it's the do me suttin' walk But peace is the essence That's all you should spread If you don't know that, I suggest you ask the dead I got my street credit already so I'm nice a lot You think I'm pussy? Try me I can bet my life I'm not And, you don't wanna get blood on your pricey top You [?] and Gabzy on the grimy block And you can think what you want Yeah, reh-reh-reh When you say, "Hi Gabzy", I can hear fear, fear, fear Obviously, it's a different story when they're 'bout high I just say 'low it I don't wanna cause no bad nights Don't wanna hear no talk 'bout "he say" Man I'm a rider, I take it to the edge like cheesecake And hold on, I ain't finished Nah That was enough for like, two Christmas dinners [Bridge: Gabzy] (Woo) Yeah It's Gabzy (That is [?] innit? Fuck it, send for Colours) Colours Listen up [Verse 2: Colours Miyagi] Ayo, ayo Chicks see my dick, she wanna suck it and wiggle it Chick bust my zip, and then she sucked it and wiggle it Big juicer, she swallow, done a little spit Said you're a little prick She don't check you no more blud, 'cause you got a little dick Roll with no little sticks, no little clips Cock it back and there ain't no Age ain't nuttin' but a number So I still pimp a little bitch You can get jacked if you're a little rich Under your bed, for your cash Leave you where your dough was Go where your hoe was, leave her soaked in seman Queen's where I'm from, but in New York there's a Queen's Bridge Bring back bullet holes and shoot niggas where their jeans is Long as I leave their soul where their mother of the Queen's is Know there's suttin' up there, I don't know if it's Jesus Know about churches, bibles, and deep readers On the street, you can get your beans split And your team hit Whole family, you can get your beans hit Building up a line, my number one cat's Felix Murderers, try your new style Put the gat to the head Rinse the whole clip and shout it's a new remix Seen with the .45, ain't talkin' 'bout the semans Get papers and them bitches change their attitude See the .50's and the chicks wanna be slamming you Link with their friends and then the bitch start chatting you Only happy when the hoods in 'em What good they bringing? Only a good digging And most chicks useless Reason for that? Is most chicks ain't [?] Probably fucked your friend drunk or booless And I notice chicks like rumours Get big headed from the car 'ooters Some chicks only worth a quick juicer Stab the [?] like my hoods a big juba More rock toppin' and the digs more looser Call me the good router Colours never wears shoes with no socks And I ain't got barookas Catch me in Nike's, never see me in Pumas And we got weapons over here, leave you dead or clueless You can get your back like Lex Luger's We got the gats and the lugers Had my pockets clipped up, leave your soul in the same direction where the roof is Telephone tough guy, get your body in a box and that's where the proof is