Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song The Blow Back , by - Giggs. Song from the album Landlord, in the genre Рэп и хип-хопRelease date: 04.08.2016
Age restrictions: 18+
Record label: SN1
Song language: English
The Blow Back |
| Get banged from the blow back |
| Man better show that cheese, bang bang nigga, Kodak |
| Man says it’s cold outside, but man’s prang, where my coat at? |
| Man slang, where’s the coke at? |
| Man wanna hang themselves, still bang, where the rope at? |
| Need ice for my drink, she ran, brang me a coke pack |
| Tell a nigga take notes, I made him hand me the notepad |
| Shit popped to bananas, I might pop to Bahamas |
| Man’s living that life, I’m going shops in pajamas |
| I leave pops in apartments, I might pop to the barbers |
| I just stopped at the marge’s and dropped Tyler and Marcus |
| I just jumped out of bed, I heard a knock from the gardeners |
| I said no, not today, and what’s good? |
| You’ve alarmed us |
| Captains and corporals, man rock with commanders |
| I could’ve rocked the Armani, but man dropped the Gabbana’s |
| Back to the OG rap, scrap that acoustic |
| Back to the OG trap, yeah that kind of music |
| So take all your hats off, slap them at Whoo Kid |
| Back with them two packs, yeah, that nigga new BIG |
| Yeah I’m back nigga, new Giggs |
| Anyone can get it, old boys or the new kids |
| Yeah, I’m back and exclusive, yeah, I’m back and abusive |
| I used to mack with the burger, but now I’m back for the sushi |
| Bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang |
| Gang, gang, gang, gang, gang, gang, gang, gang |
| Bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang |
| Gang, gang, gang, gang, gang, gang, gang, gang |
| Bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang |
| Gang, gang, gang, gang, gang, gang, gang, gang |
| Bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang |
| Gang, gang, gang, gang, gang, gang, gang, gang |
| Yo, used to run around with a whole lot of food |
| Ain’t got to trap, niggas know what I do |
| Sitting in my yard with a big boy spliff |
| And a portion of chips and a phone full of nudes |
| Scumbag ting, honey, I’m sick |
| Rudeboy, I can get gully like Blittz |
| Rule number five, man, you know we never mention the price |
| And I treat that money like Flipz |
| And I swear down, niggas always lying in their rap hooks |
| Probably couldn’t tell me how a strap looks |
| Bro 6ix got the tunes on his hard drive |
| So I tell him put the riddim on my Macbook |
| Yeah, they love it when I go in on a grime beat |
| They love it when I do it cause I rap good |
| Man, I never used to have no trainers |
| Now I’ve got bare, that’s word to my black foot |
| Shutdown Twitter, my nigga, it’s peak |
| Doing like a million views in a week |
| You ain’t really fucking with the powers I’ve reached |
| Brothers in the church like «young nigga preach» |
| I ain’t even got to try prove what I’m on |
| Name’s Big Mike, I do what I want |
| Dem man talk 'bout the work that they mash |
| But the truth is dem man usually front |
| So I fuck up the game on a psycho ting |
| Don boy there on a giro ting |
| Coco Pops and a morning spliff |
| Two slices of toast on a Milo ting |
| Pen in my right hand, Biro ting |
| Big whips, stylo ting |
| Dem man are likkle like a micro SIM |
| Some wasteman Toyota Aygo ting |
| I go sick, nigga, I go in |
| Sounds of the skeng on a Spyro ting |
| Fire on the high road, fire on the back street |
| Anywhere I go, it’s a pyro ting |
| Girls go loose when the lights go dim |
| Might go Keyshia’s, might go Kim’s |
| I could go Charlie Sloth or go Tim’s |
| Go to the barber shop and get trims |
| Then I tell man you can miss me with the cyber-chat |
| Cause niggas just talk but I’m fine with that |
| And man wanna war on my Instagram |
| You see, I’d love to but I’ve got a flight to catch |
| Hashtag merky, I’d die for that |
| The peng tings want Big Mikey back |
| Saw my mandem blow and run the game |
| I thank God that I was alive for that, like |
| Bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang |
| Gang, gang, gang, gang, gang, gang, gang, gang |
| Bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang |
| Gang, gang, gang, gang, gang, gang, gang, gang |
| Bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang |
| Gang, gang, gang, gang, gang, gang, gang, gang |
| Bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang |
| Gang, gang, gang, gang, gang, gang, gang, gang |
| Rap titan, black Tyson |
| Strategizing with niggas I’m categorized in |
| A bag of pies in the kitchen, go grab a slice, then |
| Got consignment from bruddas who seek asylum |
| I’m the fireman, fuck, I need a siren |
| Put an instrument to your neck, just like a violin |
| Them niggas lying, them flows, they didn’t sign them |
| That dope ain’t got them dialling, their sofas ain’t reclining |
| I’m like in the 90s |
| Make your baby mother go shop in her nightie |
| No soft shit, just pain here |
| Man mosh pits like rock gigs |
| Damn, watch Giggs, this ain’t fair |
| Man drop kids like daycare |
| Man shot shit, man shape here |
| Man got digis, wait here |
| Got Rizlas, wait here |
| Got deliverers, wait here |
| Move over when I change gear |
| I’m like Rudolph nigga, I’ll rain, dear |
| Just two of my niggas in the rer-ter |
| Beat gargoyle, sweets hard-boiled |
| These neeks can’t toil |
| Why? |
| My Gs are loyal |
| Not a baller but a brudda makes calm coil |
| Got plants in soil, plus I dance in oil |
| And the buj is running clean off of France’s foil |
| Mr Officer, no comment is the answer for you |
| And the buj is running clean off of France’s foil |
| Mr Officer, no comment is the answer for you |