Lyrics

[Verse] White packs got a brudda living right Staring out my pad, seeing city lights Whole team on it and our phones popping I blow a whole week's profit when I go shopping Whole crew stunting, yeah we stand out I don't owe you nothing, why your hands out? Gucci down, let me brush my shoulders off My soldiers move around with a load of dots Louis shades got me looking like a superstar I mash a sixty-two a day, yeah I move 'em fast Turning fresh coke to VS diamonds Red notes got pagans red-eyeing Think I care whose dick that my ex riding? I've got a thousand new chicks who wan' get my ting Life Fab said, the life's so exciting Long nights, we gon' grind but it gets tiring Stress levels gave me a couple grey hairs Fish scale got me stepping in Mayfair Roll with the money team, watch your money change I just grabbed a hundred fiends on a country lane Rappers selling good dreams, I break down squares From Welling to Wood Green, I'm out here From Epsom to Wesham, from Streatham to Devon From Leicester to Preston, I get round there White package got me next to white neighbours Five carats brighter than a lightsaber Amnesia buds got me flying in the clouds You're tryna buy an ounce, I'm tryna buy a house I ain't just riding round Moss Side and South I'm pushing through the city then I'm flying out Stamps in my passport, stamps on the whole thing Money calls me personally every time my phone rings Drunk punters used to keep my bills paid Till I showed some young hustlers how to drill yay All your crew are losers, all my clique are winners Nitties ringing, got me O.T. whipping dinners I reason with big fish from most zones I'm more than just a legend in my postcode Grinding, grafting, slinging Charlie till after five Diamonds dancing in my Carti like an Ali fight Now I drop the roof like my old co-D Gold diggers wan' know me cause of gold Rollies In the masjid making Salah My bitch kaffir, told her "Wait in the car" I ain't discussing six figure contracts I'm just sitting in the trap, getting bricks on tap And I can't rate guys rapping fake lies Featherweights taking twenty-eights, you know I break pies I've been going mad hard the last eleven months Box of ammo flying out, that's seven lumps Petrol smelling strong, my mozzarella long It buys me anything I want, you can tell I'm on Yves Saint Laurent, different standards don I'm popping Dom Perignon like it's Evian This rap game's filled up with a bag of nerds I can't think straight if I ain't got a pack to work In the city flipping Britany, got me seeing grands Whole keys got me O.T., just me and Ham Hazey just land, he's soon a free man On the curb grinding, birds flying like Peter Pan I ain't seeing mad racks from the PRS All my bruddas tryna see a mill before we see our death Coke stretching, real Palace Road legend I ain't chatting to estate agents bout home lettings Nowadays I might be looking for my own tenants Broke peasants got no presence when I go Streatham Bricks of caine got me up and down Mitcham Lane Keep your burners closer than your friends cah it's a vicious game Matics close, bag of sweets not Haribos Smash and blow, mashing O's up and down Bradley Road Seeing sales from Greyhound Lane to Leigham Vale Mix that peng blow with the Benzo, it had me eating well Nah a four and a baby, that can't feed me So if I whip a Porsche while I'm paid G it's a G.T Might cop a big face Rollie, more than your VT Big bag Pak certified, I've got that street heat