Lyrics

[Verse 1 - Pak-Man] More money, more pagans I understand why you're hating Spades doing shows, got the tour waiting I was O.T. getting more cake in I get money and you don't Cause I take risks that you won't Don't pree haters, I'm too grown Get on the plane, get the food home I trap every day of every month You sell your soul for like twenty lumps It ain't real beef unless the semi dumps My bruddas getting money from the ends to cunch In the kitchen, food stretching Or in the whip cruising through Streatham Playboy, I'm Hugh Hef-ing Rеalness, the true еssence People wanna know what you're about Talking tough, you've got me pissed off Talking shit, you're tryna draw me out Till I pop up on your block with my shit cocked All of my team are somebodies Get another mother's son bodied Most of my bruddas done robberies Operations that run properly I'm grinding hard through four season, more P's in Fish scale, that's raw gleaming Corn beating, you're bleeding Mum crying on the floor, weeping To the Lord pleading But that's what happens in war, beefing It's so gritty in this cold city We stack dough and get more heats in [Hook - Pak-Man] It ain't real beef unless you're bleeding All this corn beating, I need more P's in Twenty-four seven, grinding all four seasons Three-sixty-five, grinding all four seasons Twenty-four seven, grinding all four seasons Three-sixty-five, grinding all four seasons Twenty-four seven, grinding all four seasons Three-sixty-five, grinding all four seasons [Verse 2 - J Spades] In London there's big guns, you never know that And there's certain man that can't live long, you never know that And we've got the city, at my show got trappers with me Big up my dargs dem cah they're on the roads And they're trapping with me Hottest nigga on the scene darg Hottest nigga they've seen darg Tripling P, that's the team darg Head nigga that's in charge And we're heavyweights cah we're out here and we hit hard And we're everywhere, they don't do it like this nah Whip dubs, grow crops, food on the line and it's gon' pop On my grind and it won't stop, real life no soap op Shop closed down, shop open up Early grind, you'll get woken up Half of each getting broken up Kitties see me, they show me love Cause they remember me out there Like a mailbox, posted up The Turks dem used to drop keys Certain doors got opened up The junkies dem smoke mad rocks None of them man there are sober cuz Nine o'clock, they've got three beers Them man there moving like Goldilocks [Hook - Pak-Man] It ain't real beef unless you're bleeding All this corn beating, I need more P's in Twenty-four seven, grinding all four seasons Three-sixty-five, grinding all four seasons Twenty-four seven, grinding all four seasons Three-sixty-five, grinding all four seasons Twenty-four seven, grinding all four seasons Three-sixty-five, grinding all four seasons