| Yo, who’s that?
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| Big boy Skrapz, the one and only
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| Fam where are you?
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| Northwest
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| Say nothing, you gonna hold me down?
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| Boom
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| No days off, I ain’t got time to relax
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| No sidetracks, I ain’t got time for all of that
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| I’m in a 4×4, two pipes at the back
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| Dippin' in and out of lanes through the tiniest gaps
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| I’ve got killers in my contacts
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| One hand sign, that’s a done deal, no contracts
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| I’ve got a household name that stay ringing bells
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| It isn’t hard to tell that I’m doing well
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| A wholesale, cook crack 'till my clothes smell
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| And if it all goes well by the end of the year, then I’m gone, I ain’t going
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| into detail
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| Pent houses and females
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| Whole top floor’s full of goons, bad bitches and weed smell
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| I got shooters around me with big Desert Eagles
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| I’m basically paid like it’s legal
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| And all they need is a reason, trust
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| Yo
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| Yo
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| Who’s that?
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| It’s V
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| Yo cuzzy, where are you?
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| I’m in a mad place right now
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| Stop playing cuz man where are you
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| North
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| You gonna hold me down?
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| Reporting life from the border where it’s borderline
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| Insane, I go insane, I get bored of lines
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| But I’m tryna kill it until I’m immortalised
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| Still tryna get a mortgage, man I’m mortified
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| Cause no one ever taught me 'bout credit, but
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| Credit to myself, go getters go and get it
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| Only diesel I could afford were the denims
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| Now I’m in my diesel feeling gassed, unleaded
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| Drive got me this, tryna feel alive got me this
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| New Rollie, make time for me, bitch
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| I’m a hustler, I grind for me bitch
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| Buss down make you buss it open, shine for me bitch
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| I’m a star now
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| Never got a look-in, I’m looking at yards now
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| I’m in hypebeast, nigga calm down
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| You ain’t got a leg to stand on, put them arms down
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| Yo
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| Yo what’s up?
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| Who’s that?
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| Big Mulli
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| Yo cuzzy, where are you? |
| My phone’s moving meady, where are you?
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| LF, East side
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| Hold me down
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| Look, it’s big As from the East side, how ya livin'?
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| I’m in the trap where the cats and the mice livin'
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| Big foreigns, any time you see me whipping
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| I stays in the trap, that’s how I mind my business
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| In a dirty kitchen, with the lights flicking
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| Night shifting all night, all the white licking
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| I rap now, they know I’m more than nice with it
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| Ice with it, and I don’t write down my lyrics
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| And I don’t see no food, I just buy the
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| I straight drop it, bring it back and recycle it
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| And if shorty hella bad I’m re-piping it
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| And I ain’t with all the talk, I’m on sight with it
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| The jewels mad, even madder when the lights hit it
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| I take next man’s gyal and make them my bitches
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| And I don’t spend no time with them
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| I just blow loud packs, get neck and put pipe in them
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| Yo
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| Yo, family
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| Who’s that?
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| Loose
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| Yo, family, where are you?
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| Harlem, B
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| Where?
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| South
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| Aight, say nuttin', hold me down
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| Gang
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| Yeah, they calling me Loose
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| I ain’t slipping in the streets, I got a pole when I’m out with my boo
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| Who’s brave, ay? |
| Run up on who?
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| I’m in love with designer, drill it in a Canada Goose
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| Harlem, hold it down for the crew
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| I coulda broke my hands bagging weight of this, true
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| 8 dash, but we got about 2
|
| Lack where? |
| Lack where? |
| I got it locked in a shoe
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| Ay banter, skidding in a 4 pipe
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| Oh my, oh my, swag looking mazza
|
| Shoulda left the brucky with Amanda
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| But she bag it up 'nuff times, so I thank her
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| Buss on my paigons and they ain’t blew back
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| I’m from the South part, Harlem baby, you knew that
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| Stepping in Harrods, my Gucci two bags
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| And my gyal up in Louis, she looking too bad
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| Yo
|
| Yo
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| Who’s that?
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| AJ, cuzzy, come on
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| Yo, cuzzy, wagwan?
|
| What you telling me, I’m in West, man, come on
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| Hold me down
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| I got you, gang
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| It’s big G Trace-O, representing West Zone
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| I want all the smoke, ain’t got no pressure, gang will press chrome
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| Stretching out these models, back in day I had to stretch O’s
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| Independent and I got my pendant looking metro
|
| Buss down looking boomin', got your misses groomin'
|
| Grey trackie got these pengers on my Insta tryna zoom in
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| Cooly boy I’m coolin'
|
| Louboutin shoes in season, bloody bottoms got me boolin'
|
| Ladbroke Grove you’re groovin' now
|
| I’m a lover not a loser, i8 cruiser
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| Fat pussy bruiser, always with a shooter
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| Dailing skatty, stay around in Sammy like Yakuza
|
| You’re thinking that’s your wifey but she gang and she’s a chooser
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| Girls, they tryna diss me, but
|
| Tracey, I got plenty hoes
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| Slide up on my niggas, leave your rentals catching plenty holes
|
| Bloody on this F ting, girls ain’t in no Fendi though
|
| Got my young strikers making names like Asensio
|
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Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song London's Calling , by - GRM Daily. Song from the album Let's Work (Vol.1), in the genre Рэп и хип-хоп