Mad About Bars Part 2

Mixtape Madness، Unknown T

Mad About Bars۱۳۹۷۲:۴۴

متن موزیک

And true say man crept to the top

Hustle for days, I learnt both ways

Plug foHustle for days, I learntr the shape and the crops

It look like I come out the gym and I shot (Whoof)

Look like I come out the gym and I shot

Listen

Work that chef like it's Novikov

I've been on bail for the longest

More time Boydem gob

Man just sit in the dock

Get released and I don't look bov'

The cops like; "How did he do that job?" come

More time it's a Niner ting

I been that silent one

Opps can't fuck with da thug

We made the Tridents come

More time it's a Niner ting

I been that silent one

More time I've been complacent

But when bro got dropped

Fuck all the guap

I stepped out with no hesitation

Man lurk from the public station

Slow down 'cause there ain't no mistaking

And I've been tryna rake this cake in

You can never hold it down like man, 'cah my life's been aching

Police on my nuts it's fucked

Earnt that luck, cases bruck

Opps can't fuck with da thug

We made the Tridents come

And dis one look like an undie

Nuh, we dont supply that drug

In fact, do I look like a mug?

Word, man, rock on my stainless tucked

We don't do this monkey bar ting

Fence and get chinged

Bag that work with the latex on, the rack will come in

Again and again, the racks will come in

OT blingin', the phone keeps ringing

Circle your block, pop doors get chinging

Fuck dem opps, for the boy dem singing

That prick had a vicious dipping

How many nights had to bake in the Bando to get that guap?

I flew OT tryna lick that stain, so we hit that spot

Bag dat up, and serve 'dem dots

Opps can't mock 'bout guap

Man push work a lot

My old school gyal love the way man rock

Man flex on a bae like, "What?"

And true say man crept to the top

Hustle for days, I learnt both ways

Plug for the shape and the crops

It look like I come out the gym and I shot (Whoof)

Look like I come out the gym and I shot

Listen

There's too much chat on the street,

I've been itching to write man off

Bro got juice on my favourite shirt

So I burnt that top

Work that chef like it's Novikov

I've been on bail for the longest

More time Boydem gob

Man just sit in the dock

Get released and I don't look bov'

The cops like; "How did he do that job?"

Had a dot-dot up in the cab, got Polkas in bags

We soak him and dash

Bro-bro got the clique on waps

Beg man don't run, when they see that wap

Got the clique on mash

Beg man don't run, when they see that wap

Bro-bro got the clique on waps

Beg man don't run, when they see that mash

I had devilish thoughts when I witnessed the body get chopped

Banged the one pop

In fact, there's still spots in this spin ting

Come like them old school clocks

Listen

One lickle ching and they chat like kids

He got splashed, and he got cheffed

We didn't say shit

Gang just pop up and tape off strips

Real nigga shit

Pamper ting, buss off and take mans shit

Bumper ting, bruk' off and tek' some dick

She wants some more love

Just take a man in

Want some more love?

Just take a man in

Gyal must be licked if she thinks imma come to her crib

To get caught up and then get nicked

Don't forget, man got beef on your strip

I done so much work on the low

I'm only young, mixing a pyrex bowl

Bussed the wap case and the Tridents know

Justice ain't right, but the jury don't

C.P.S. they know the justice ain't right, but the jury don't

What you know about moving bookey?

Confusing the angle, 'cause I'm unpredictable

See this life that I live ain't fictional

In the system, we're labelled as. "Criminal"

All about money; don't care about beef

But few of these yutes have doubts

Don't care 'bout your name on street

If you're on me, I'm cheffing you inside out

And if I catch an M, I will fly out

Poke-poke chef, soak til' that yute dries out

If a boys got grub, then I will try out, sike

Your boy got yakked then bounced, twice

If I backed my shank on your friend

Ask yourself, "Should I be chillin' with dem?"

Bromley-by-hoe, give ten-out-of-ten

And she sniff coke, let me give it to dem

How could the feds try lock man for eighty hours and dat?

Rhaatid, it's mad

Whose that youte tryna move bare bad?

And my music's up, 'cause my views went mad

Bits get bagged, haffi' scale and lag

And free all da guys, locked up in the can

Bits get bagged, haffi' scale and lag

And free all da guys, locked up in the can

My babes-my babes, said I need rubber bands

Got too much notes in cash

But don't forget, man still gets paid in bands

Can't wait til' the payment lands

The way, the way that the phone just rang

Got seven missed calls at 3am, and it's only a Benz, like damn

Like, how can a man stress man?

Whose got heart lemme turn that off

Blood on creps, man burn that off

You ain't done shit on the pitch like Berbatov

Burn man off

I got bagged and I learned a lot

Chase racks, don't waste more time on a paigon block

I switched plans, now I'm making prof

These-, these niggas are bitches

Bro got the 4-4 strong, Rambo long

We're getting this done, fuck civilians

Well I've been on your block with some niggas

If I pop off the door, no-one vigilant

Run out-

Fuck; these niggas are innocent

Surrounded by burners and shotties

Next time drop of the dots to a Botty

Lurk on your block wid' the mop