Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Lyrical Combat, artist - Giggs. Album song Landlord, in the genre Рэп и хип-хопDate of issue: 04.08.2016
Age restrictions: 18+
Record label: SN1
Song language: English
Lyrical Combat |
| Isn’t he a stunter? |
| My yout', is he on the jumper? |
| Dumper, dumper, better hit the bunker |
| Cocaine; |
| nigga’s just a punter |
| Puncture, puncture, I just got a puncture |
| Got a little brownin', everybody wants her |
| I just left a function, got a little drunker |
| Sippin' on that Cognac, little bit of ganja |
| Jumpman, jumpman, nizzy in the jumper |
| Got a pump action, listen when it thunder |
| Thumper, thumper, thumper |
| Knowing those plates ain’t legit on the bumper |
| Bumper, dumper |
| Slam dunk, I’m a dunker |
| Get your cheques in, you get your little lump sum |
| You little prick or get your nigga lumped up |
| Younger, younger, nigga was a younger |
| Always with a borer, nigga was a lunger |
| Never had no paper, nigga was a sponger |
| Always on a madness, nigga was a bungser |
| Sleeping, slumber |
| Got your nigga’s number |
| You little pricks, man’ll put you niggas under |
| Yeah I was a blick little nigga, wah da bumba? |
| Drop man, sick man, kick him like a kickstand |
| Come with that stick that’s kicking like IP Man |
| Hollowman, hitman, holla man, quick fam |
| All of them girl want Hollowman’s wristbands |
| Hollow got 'em sinking, Hollow got the quicksand |
| Any feature, Hollow takes the piss, fam |
| Taking all your chocolates, lemme get your crisps fam |
| Bully in the playground, kicking all the kids down |
| Niggas invested, nigga’s obsessed with |
| Lickin' this TEC in niggas' intestines |
| Niggas is destined, this is his destiny |
| Niggas get sniping, niggas get Wesley |
| Nigga so wet that nigga just wet me |
| Niggas all Nesquik, niggas is Nestlé |
| Niggas just pest man, niggas so pesty |
| Niggas get popped, blud, drizzle like Pepsi |
| Nigga I’m on that, physical contact |
| Contract’s official, judicials are on track |
| Long strap combat, kick like Ong Bak |
| Residuals on tact, you miserable wombat |
| Deliver the strong crack, gorillas are strong back |
| The spinners are compact, you niggas don’t want that |
| For dinner, it’s long, ahk |
| Want dinners? |
| I’m on track |
| Not ticking, I want cash |
| Listen, it’s not that |
| I’m on business, merging |
| Feds in prison and birding |
| Earners earning, flipping and turning |
| Got the neighbours twitching that curtain |
| It’s okay though, I’m still serving |
| I got the mash still ripping that bird in |
| I got the bag, can’t fit in that sterling |
| One slap, man spin and man whirlwind |
| Lab rats, living like vermin |
| Matte black whizzer, that’s German |
| When I pat, that kitty gets purring |
| And I stab my dick in, that’s squirting |
| I’m surfing, for certain |
| So many verses that they can’t verse with |
| Can’t get their head around it, can’t turban |
| Might get cheddar out, start churning |
| My living is illegal |
| Ard Doe, I’m beginning on a sequel |
| Artist, only thing I’m missing is the easel |
| Niggas doing cartwheels dipping from the evil |
| 'Til the filth come sniffing with the Beagles |
| When they should be nicking all the paedos |
| Violate, and I’m visiting your peoples |
| Pop pop pop, and you niggas is the weasels |
| Man turn tables, lifting up the needle |
| Man pop tarts, man’s sticky with the treacle |
| Man pop darts, man’s tripping in the Beetle |
| Man is real like a nigga was a Hebrew |
| Staying in jungle, visit in to Seaview |
| With couple yard man, whipping on an eagle |
| You could go missing if you need to |
| Fishing in the sea too, ditch him in the deep blue |
| Yeah, man have got pills, and powder |
| Selling that chowder, man are like «Yowzas» |
| Grams in my trousers |
| We left the house with about four ounces |
| In the ting powered by M Power |
| Air full of high octane and sour |
| Out here when it’s baking, making bread out of flour |
| Way out of town in the sticks |
| Sick of these sycophants — sickening. |
| Stick em' with six staffs' -cripple man! |
| Niggas putting out the same shit, yeah, we sick of that |
| Psychopath pickled in Courvois and Yac |
| And the triggerman all part of the bigger plan |
| «Oh, what you saying? |
| You just being the bigger man?» |
| «You just doing you? |
| How’d you figure, fam?» |
| You fuckers insignificant, kicking like Liu Kang, this thing’s different |
| This take off’s magnificent, merking |
| You’re a little ting, different |
| This situation getting sticky, chatting to this bimbo, she’s giving me a stiffy |
| We made the car smell iffy |
| And nah she never gets lippy |
| Sipping on spirits, spots in the city |
| £60 of diesel in this German beast |
| I’m swerving the police, I’m busy |
| Busy body, she’s preeing the seat, she |
| Felt the need to say that she’d never heard of me |
| But then again for real she also said |
| She didn’t know that cows came in burgundy |
| It’s all unfolding perfectly |
| This weed’s working, going through my circuitry |
| Spent so long in purgatory |
| I’m part of the furniture, it’s cool, no urgency |
| I’m paralytic, permanently |
| My vision’s blurred but got this bird in Bermondsey |
| And she’s a certainty |
| I’m hurting certainly, not inadvertently |
| I’ll leave her in emergency |
| With broken vertebrae, is she gonna learn today? |
| I ain’t prepared to sway |
| You ain’t prepared for this, it’s fair to say |