Lyrics Italy - Aj Tracey

Italy

Bare man wanna watch face
They say I’m too hood, so the scene ain’t feeling me
What don’t kill man makes you stronger
Right now, fam, ain’t nobody killing me
They don’t like my expensive garms
I’m meant to look broke, real talk, are you kidding me?
They hate that my garms are Italian
And my peng ting that I’m with’s from Italy
Bare man wanna watch face
They say I’m too hood, so the scene ain’t feeling me
What don’t kill man makes you stronger
Right now, fam, ain’t nobody killing me
They don’t like my expensive garms
I’m meant to look broke, real talk, are you kidding me?
They hate that my garms are Italian
And my peng ting that I’m with’s from Italy
White girl, Carmen Electra
When I reload off a BBC
That’s a big boy crop, then I get a one extra
Nine bars get bruk down, fuck a tester
God forgive me if I buss my nine
Bar, that’s a likkle reference to Skepta
Still oh so comfy in my sector
Cause I still will eat man, I’m Lecter
And when I spray bars, it’s a lecture
Youths get gassed in the club off of nectar
Outside, got a non-musical don with
The Nikes on and the cocked arm in the Vectra
Behave yourself, Konan’s adlib
Your dons don’t back you, never backed it
If I ever back the ting and then clapped it
I bet your squad will leave you like your dad did
White girl, Angelina Jolie
Sitting in the cut, my dargies roll weed
Start with the Q, then dance an oz
Peng ting off the shit, she banged a whole G
Nah, nah, nah, can’t step to my team
Trinidad boy, that’s T&T
I’ve seen a real skengman sitting on the porch
Shotgun and white tee
It ain’t nuttin' for my nigga to holla my uncle
Tell him come down with the OG
When I say OG
I don’t mean Jendor, Ruger, Little Dee, Blacks or P
I mean the Bruckshaw, gat’s in his jeans
Fly through quick, gat’s in his jeans
Call up the squad, MTP
And tell them 'bout beef, family, it’s peak
Bare man wanna watch face
They say I’m too hood, so the scene ain’t feeling me
What don’t kill man makes you stronger
Right now, fam, ain’t nobody killing me
They don’t like my expensive garms
I’m meant to look broke, real talk, are you kidding me?
They hate that my garms are Italian
And my peng ting that I’m with’s from Italy
Bare man wanna watch face
They say I’m too hood, so the scene ain’t feeling me
What don’t kill man makes you stronger
Right now, fam, ain’t nobody killing me
They don’t like my expensive garms
I’m meant to look broke, real talk, are you kidding me?
They hate that my garms are Italian
And my peng ting that I’m with’s from Italy
People love to call me ungrateful
Say that I sin to live, and that’s hateful
Primary, I couldn’t afford kicks to play ball
Now my outfit costs 32 8 balls
I’m balling, literally balling
Left wing balling at eight o’clock in the morning
Rest of the time, I’m trapping
Or I’m out in the studes, late night, I’m rapping
I’m a producer when it comes to the rambo
But it ain’t hooks or samples like stabbing
Sending out the love to the thotties who put back in
I be beating up the pussy then sending 'em backpacking
Looking at my hoodie and shoobies, I get cash in
I ain’t onto smashing, I’m saving and man’s stacking
Cuh I’ve got some brothers that are sitting in the pen
And been bashing
You’re dead, flow’s dead, your crew’s dead
Girl’s dead, lines dead, your food’s dead
No comeback, RIP
Stop grime, don, you’re better off on R&B
I’m a menace, you can’t black ball me
I call blunts and order up the pack for me
You’re a lettuce, any sideman with a fruit loop fetish
Plans for the summer or Monaco, then it’s Venice