| Laying in bed and I still overthink
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| Tossing and turning, thinking money
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| Weighing up verses and plan B
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| Tryna reverse it and live clean
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| Have food on the circuit, bro 15
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| Tunes on deck and I just wanna work
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| I’ve been doing this from emerging from out the scene
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| Man from the ends that didn’t have faith
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| See me on flyers when they get backstage
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| Everyting calm when I jump onstage
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| North of the border, I rep them ways
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| Life gets hard, time’s flying by
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| From the day that you’re born, been a mountain climb
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| I still have bars and a badboy flow
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| Even if I don’t get around in time, I’m calm
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| I still know man that buss their gun
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| And finger their girl with the firing arm, yeah
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| Scared money don’t make no money
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| So we grind on the road from night till the morn
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| Ain’t got a choice, man trap when it’s bait
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| Write two bars, then I go back to my base
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| Virgo baby, stuck in my ways
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| With the tightest flow
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| Man don’t
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| With your dead little song that you’re dragging around
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| Duppy the beats, man ain’t got a clue
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| Till I come through pap-pap-papping off rounds
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| Then I’m gone like a drive-by
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| Talking grime, me a go find out
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| If you’re talking, money, man find out
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| 24/7, don’t know about time out
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| You’ve got food in the trap? |
| Man find out
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| Get the drop, man run in your hideout
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| Festival season, splash it and hide out
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| They can’t flex in my face, I’m onsite now
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| I’m around here, you can’t get a rhyme out
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| I don’t sleep at night, I’m a night owl
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| I go back to the trap, put the mic down
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| I was sat in my car when I wrote this
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| I came back with blatant hunger
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| Breaking through then arranging numbers
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| I might change my number
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| On the regime that I’m training under
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| Pattern myself like a Christmas jumper
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| Man get liff was a banger
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| Swear down, even made Mystry wonder
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| Old school like DJ Wonder
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| I try my best more time but I know
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| That I don’t make the smartest move
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| I’m old school like Heartless Crew
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| I bring vibes when I step in the place
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| So I’m like Pirlo when I’m passing through
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| You ain’t clocked? |
| I’m a darkskin too
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| 45 in the air, that’s the party poop |