In the booth with Akh[?] and Skeng
Smoking on some pengaleng
When the MAC’s in the dinger, man have gotta dip and blend
If Driz[?] is in your ends
Tell a friend to tell a friend
C-Block, Miggy world, to the fuckin’ end
Catch me on your back block
Mobbing with Black Block
Smoking on a fat nug
Shotting off some fat rocks
If it ain’t the Nina, it’s the spinner in the black sock
If it ain’t the burger then it’s looking like the black glock
Rest in peace Miguel, my little brother was a black god
Let it die down then we’re coming in like Black Ops
FNs and M10s, you’re fucking with the mad mob
Brand new APs coming with the black fob
Tracker on your personal, jack boys’ll get your gaff robbed
Since we lost Migz, we’ll do it mask on or mask off
If I get the drop then I’m rushing like a Makarov
Hitters on speed dial and they do a fast job
’99 to ’05, kicking ball at Fletcher Moss
’05 to ’18, hitting licks and licking off
Driver’s window’s always down
Right ear’s baking off
She just wants some stapler
But I just wanna scrape this pot
I’ve never had a bitch in the room I whip in rock
‘Cause I was raised on this bae[?] shit, it’s the mob
I’ve been with my main ting for five years and guess what?
She ain’t even seen my spot
Mafia lifestyle got me feeling mob boss
Shout my gritters from the C-H to the Moss block
YG on the come up, big pack in a sock
If it’s not the spin-spin, then they’re packing the glock
I’m from Chorlton, C-Block, active a lot
Had a hundred racks at 21, chat to me dog
They think I’m 28, I’m 23, it’s actually fucked
They think I’m 28, I’m 23, it’s actually fucked
In the booth with Ish[?] and Dyl[?]
Tryna hit a fuckin’ mil’
Cop a crib on the hill
If you’re talking deals then you’d best be talking quarter mil’s
If not, ‘llow it, ‘cause the streetsdem have got me
Catch me making plays where the mob be
My little tiger hit a lick; he’s looking all frosty
Pull up in the SRT, don’t ask me what it cost me
Dem figures dere, they be sounding all boxy
And the fedsdem are nosy, man have gotta watch, G
But since I lost my little bro, I couldn’t give a fuck, B
Always trapped from city, might hit up country
Preeing up these London yutes and that’s where the funds be
The streets call me ‘head gone’[?] but my real name’s Tunde
You can catch me on the C-Block from Monday to Monday
All I want is caramel cream, no sundae
Phonesdem are jumpy
10/10 got me up and down like a bungee
Getting gwolla, no delay
Passing phones every eight hours like a fuckin’ relay
And I don’t trust a soul now
So if the bag’s on deck then know how we stay
Remember times I was so broke
Me and Migz robbing bikes then throwing it on eBay
I’m near the alley like Frando’s
I’ve got my bally on my head ‘cause lick squad’s how the gang goes
Man are buzzing off some jewellery
But your ice is watered down like both buttons at Nando’s
And I wish a kid would
‘Cause I never leave the gaff without the snubby or the Rambo
And they’re calling me the white boy
I’m in a hot rod with Antiguans[?] and Sambos[?]
So free Akhi[?] out the bin
LB, M Low[?], AT, and the mad bros
I love Lizzie ‘cause that nigga splits his sweets with me
If you see a bag of buj, know I’ve got the heat with me
Loyalty’s the key if you wanna eat with me
Remember grabbing bags[?] of haze like I couldn’t see fifty
Me and K.I.M.E’s on the trap going back to back
Stolen or legal, going lap for lap
Just done a hot one, need a strap for strap
Linking up in other cities, going trap for trap
Your line’s dead ‘cause you’re giving out bad bone
I’m up and down Mauldeth mobbing with my trap phone
Hit a lickle two, had to get my stack grown
Now the Jeep’s cherry red with the mad chrome
I’m with a bad bitch giving out mad dome
21’s the code if you know my zone
On the block blowing woods, no pinecone
Inform[?] a hitter, you can get your mind blown
