Intro

Never like me mehn
I'm not a game
I'm not a husstle
You feel like one of the ball playing
Niggas you know

Like bird magic assemble
You're never that nigga that dope
A nigga that need to leave
But if I leave friend's still gonna love me mehn

Yeah I got silly dough from this street shit
But if I left the music game
Would the fans still love me
Had my trap phone singing in my own city
Cos we had shit on lock
Never had to go to country

If I weren't known for really doing this or migz never died
I wondered to myself would they still bump me

Who knows nowadays the music scenes fucked up nowadays
I've seen the fakest guys blowing like a pumpy

It's like the actors and dick riders blow, so I keep traps kicking
Got the bros dem serving
I put in so much work in that shit whip

That my tail bone and left shin still hurting
I just stick to doing me stacking racks by the hundreds
I ain't really into wave surfing
Still on this M O B ting
If it ain't my main ting
You won't catch me licking out or buying birkins

I shot white or green with bits of purple
But I ain't talking bout buzz light year
I'm in that GLC 43 doing 160
Mobbing down the M way in 9th gear

Quick to run that food back if whip it in a pot
And it's frothy at the top like a pint (beer)
Only fucking with that cream
Got to get it with my team
Coronas fucking up the price
So it's quite dear

I miss hitting miller and carter with miggy migz
And getting lobster Mac n cheese and filet steak
Or going halves on the finest of cali
Early shifts got us doing wake n bake
You ever trapped so hard in the German
That the dashboards saying take a break

Music's got me trying to turn my dirty money lidge
Cos mummy needs a big boy gaff by the lake
I been buying and selling from early
Since a school kid I couldn't wait for the bell
Then I got locked up in 2014 threw my dreams down the wishing well

Have you ever blew next doors electrics
Trying to spark a big boy zoot in your cell
But it was light work up in the bank
Free my guys in the ways cos I heard that it's hell

But tunde still got shit locked like it's Walton
Dads Nigerian grow up in Chorlton
I was putting flake in the pot
For the paper now the stacks sky high taller than a sky scraper