Yo
Everyone's trappin' and everyone's shootin'
Fake rappers sound real, it's confusing
Three things in common, let me go through them
We rap, we're alive and we're all only human
Most of these rappers are a mystery
Done a background check, no history
But they got a friend that's official on the roads
So they write about him and tell his story
Then they blow off a cap like a knee shot
They ain't never sat in no trap by the sea shore
Bagging up packs 'til the feds kick the door
Now you're running for your life, hearing seagulls and nee naws
I trap but this shit's done, bats or a brick shot
That's me and Shrimpos, strapped in the ding dong
Pack man and dip off, I'm actually pissed off
'Cause bro got bagged in a big crop
Now it's free 'em up until it's spelled backwards
Why you tryna go back to your ex, that's backwards
I'm strictly movin' forward in my life, not backwards
Where I'm from its evol, like love spelled backwards
(Now it's free 'em up until it's spelled backwards
Why you tryna go back to your ex, that's backwards
I'm strictly movin' forward in my life, not backwards
Where I'm from its evol, like love spelled backwards)
Yo
They look at my life, they think it looks nice
But it's been far from easy
I remember them days, I remember them nights
I starved, when mum couldn't feed me
So I went out and got it
I went and took risks and made somethin' from nothin'
When I made my first tenner with Joey back then
We just both fell in love with the hustle
It's been a long road on the streets bruv
It's been a lot of ups and downs
Used to show a lot of man love in my hood blud
But they never showed me love back
They took my kindness for weakness
So bruddas got dropped out and put on the bench
And I earned my respect 'cause the work that I put in
You earned your respect 'cause you're pushin' a Benz
That's a joke, the feds took my brother off road
And the judge gave eighteen years for a move
Only God knows how he copes
But I ain't been tryna get in beef in the streets blud
I just been tryna get money
But he dissed my brudda, so he dissed me
So I'va get the drop off and bun him
I cut a crop the feds runnin'
I cut a crop the feds runnin'
I had to bolt out the back door, jump the fence
I had to guard on a bucket of jargon
And I'm gettin' away, but they're comin'
And I'm gettin' away, but they're comin'
I'm three miles away from the crime scene
But that weren't far enough, I kept runnin'
And the amount of times I said "Fuck it."
The amount of times I said "Fuck it."
I keep showin' love, they don't show it back
So now I've had enough of all of that love shit
Right now I'm on some fuckery
Right now I'm on some crud
When you see me
Don't be puttin' out your fist tryna spud me
'Cause right now I ain't on spuds
Right now I'm on loading up guns
Take me to the shotters and plugs
Right now I'm on kicking off doors
Take me to the money and drugs
Them bruddas ain't puttin' in work
Them man are just runnin' their gums
You better have bullet proof skin
If you think you can run up on us
